The Lost Heir
by YeTianshi
Summary: Abandoned and lost all hope, the nameless boy thrives to survive no matter what life may throw at him. If it means he'll become a monster in the process, well, it was inevitable.
1. Chapter 1 - Defiance

**Author Note: I'll keep this short. This fic has been in my head for a while so I finally decided to get on with it and post it. There are quotes that some of you might notice, good job, they're some of my favourite.**

 **For those of you who don't like OC's, not gonna judge, I myself don't like OC's too much, though there are exceptions. I do however dislike too many OC's, so good news, the main character will be the _only_ consistent OC any other OC's are either there to die (mwhahahah) or to somehow affect the MC's life in one way or another.**

 **Criticism and advice will be accepted happily and considered, however not necessarily implemented depending on what it is. Flaming and raging... eh, I'll probably just delete it.**

 **I don't own RWBY! I don't see why I even need to make that statement, I wouldn't be writing this if I did!**

* * *

Lost, abandoned, discarded, or forgotten… The five year old toddler roamed the roads of Mistral in rags almost as dirty as himself; the orphan with mismatched eyes was raised in an orphanage for the past two years. The little one had no name, no memories of his parents, or any clue that could lead him to his family. If he had any idea to begin with at all that is.

The little one still remembered the answer of the headmistress when he asked about his past, the memory echoed in his mind repeatedly, every day.

 _I found you in a local bar, no one wanted you._

No one wanted him; it wasn't easy for the boy, especially when dark thoughts consumed him on a daily basis. Had they abandoned him? Forgotten him? Were his parents dead? If not, why had they left him in that hell hole?

The boy had barely escaped the orphanage. He had overheard the headmistress talking to an older man about selling some of the children into slavery, and although he had no idea what 'slavery' even meant, becoming a commodity hadn't sounded very appealing.

The boy was sharp for his age, he could always tell who meant him harm and who was being genuine. He had known that escape was his only option, it didn't matter where, it only mattered how far he could get.

Mistral was one of the four kingdoms of Remnant, and also the most culturally advanced one. However, it was also the home of the largest black markets in Remnant, and the home of countless killers, thieves, and other unpleasant characters.

So there he was, alone, a fragile boy roaming the shady neighborhood of Mistral in the dead of night. His chances of survival lowered with each passing second, but the boy's mismatched eyes held determination, a desire to survive.

The boy had black hair that flowed to his ears like silk, the bangs just above his eyes. His right eye was a deep red, furious and unyielding, while his left eye was a bright green, cold and empty. His eyes had a hypnotic attractiveness to them, not only was heterochromia rare, but those specific colors were practically non-existent. Yet those eyes were also what had alienated him from others, the weirdest thing about him, was the fact that he had no pupils, which made his eyes look colder than they would have been otherwise.

As if that wasn't enough, his eyes actually shone a little, enough that they would look like a predator at night and even be visibly glowing in mid-day.

His physique and height were rather average among those his age, hardly eye-catching. Only the necklace hanging off his neck seemed to be worth anything at all, yet not enough to steal either. It was something the orphanage had told him he had since he was found; he always assumed it was connected to his parents, something he had dearly hoped to be true.

"Hungry…" he murmured under his breath, his growling stomach only reminding him of the difficulties lying ahead. Already he had started to get tired, his eyes barely kept open by sheer will alone. But he was too young, sheer will wasn't enough to keep his undeveloped body going for long.

"Careful!" a man all but growled at the boy that bumped into him.

The collision itself had dropped the child right on his rear; he was in no condition to be out and about in the city.

"Sorry" he mumbled. The boy scurried back onto his feet, rather sloppily, and attempted to go back on his way, wherever that was supposed to be.

"Fucking brat!" the man growled, planting his foot right into the child's stomach, sending him flying for a great distance, stopping only when he hit a wall, his body rag-dolling and crumping on the ground in a painful display.

The kid, already exhausted, vomited whatever he had left inside his stomach and entered a coughing fit. He gasped for air right after he stopped emptying his stomach, every breath of air reminding him of the sharp pain in his abdomen.

No one around seemed to care about the abuse, it was no big deal in the parts they were in. One could, more than likely, murder someone and keep walking without a care in the world.

The black haired boy stood despite his body's objections. He didn't want to die, he had barely even lived. He clenched his jaw and stared the man dead in the eyes, and while it would seem wise not to antagonize someone much stronger with such a defiant act, the boy had no intention of bowing his head to _anyone_.

The young one had no father to protect him, no mother to comfort him, no friend to back him up, and as of that day, no home to return to. As far as his concern went, this man had come to take his last possession—his 'dignity'. More than likely, he could have survived if only he had gotten on his knees and apologized, apologized like a dog and begged for his life.

But he wouldn't have it.

The man walked closer to the boy, his gait clearly professional, and his intentions well concealed. One could clearly see his features under the moon, he had bright yellow piercing eyes, and his facial features were decorated by his shoulder length silver hair. His facial features were also rather soft, quite fitting to his athletic body, one that was tuned perfectly in balance for power and speed, his muscles lean and obvious through his overall grey clothing.

The man had seemed intrigued, most likely by the defiance reflected in the child's eyes, one that should have been overtaken and consumed by unrelenting fear at the prospect of death.

"What's your name brat?" the man asked, slightly interested in the boy.

However the boy couldn't answer, he had still been rather disoriented from the impact, let alone the fact that he had absolutely no idea what his name was. He had never been given one, even in the orphanage. Everyone simply called him a 'freak'; the mismatched eye colors were unnatural.

The man didn't seem all too concerned with a response, if he even expected one, and instead grabbed the boy by the collar of his shirt, hoisted him up like a traveling bag and took him along with a smirk adorning his face. It was as simple as that, no one in the street paid attention to the events that took place, the kidnapping registering as completely natural.

* * *

"What's your name?" The man asked again, this time there was the hint of a threat in his tone, one that wasn't missed by the small one.

They had made it back to the mystery man's house, it was quite far from the populated parts of the city, and in fact there wasn't another house or apartment in sight, only a large expanse of trees and nature.

They had sat across each other in the living room; the silver haired man had brought the child with something in mind, what however, the child did not know. The boy had made no attempt at escaping, pretty confident that escape was not an option he would survive.

So instead he opted to answer, "I don't know," he answered with a slight frown at his predicament.

"Doesn't matter, from now on, you will be a shadow," the man started. "I will train you, and you will learn. You will not question me, you will not defy me, and you will either obey or _**die**_."

An invisible weight came crashing down on the kid, one that had him gasping for air, only managing short, shallow breaths. The little one felt as if someone had thrown him into the depths of the ocean, it was crushing, but most of all, cold. It was too cold to bear. Cold sweats overtook his body, his eyes moistened under the mental stress, and the adrenaline seemed to prepare him for a fight-or-flight mode.

The man's tone held a darkness that could swallow a person whole, his eyes however promised him only one thing, death. Death would be reality should he decide to disobey.

However, just as the boy seemed to be at his limits, the pressure disappeared as if it were never there to begin with. There was no answer; there was no need for one.

"Remember. If you are not free to say no, your yes is meaningless," the man educated, or so it seemed, as he stood to leave. "I'm going to be your worst nightmare until the day I say otherwise. My name is Sevas, better get some rest kid, God knows you'll need it."

* * *

Sevas woke as soon as the sun's light made itself known to the world, like clockwork, he opened his eyes and got out of bed without skipping a beat. This was routine, for one in his profession, there was a need to be orderly, prepared, alert, and ready.

He got dressed in grey clothing that seemingly made him look like a thief, or an assassin, an image that was greatly supported by the fact that he hid countless knives on his person, strapping all types of weapons wherever possible.

He walked where he had left the boy the day prior. Sevas had plans for the boy, ones that many would most likely call him crazy for; it would be the start of a nightmare for the kid.

"Wake up," Sevas whispered right before he threw a dagger into the air, right above the boy. He was intent at teaching the kid to be alert of his surroundings even as he was asleep; he believed that his exercise would eventually yield the desired result.

"Mm…" The one in the bed hummed in response as he opened his eyes slightly, barely aware of his surroundings at all. The dagger spun once, twice, thrice, and then, inevitably, started to fall.

Not long after, a piercing cry penetrated through the walls of the entire house. The boy, left in agonizing pain, held his left shoulder in efforts of reducing the pain caused by the foreign metallic object intruding into his flesh.

Sevas however, seemed to take it all in stride as he smiled, "Good, you're awake. Your clothes are next to the bed, I expect you to be outside in five minutes, a second delay and I will stab your right shoulder, you come out on time and I will heal your left one," Sevas said before he turned to leave the room, seemingly satisfied with his ultimatum.

The boy didn't even doubt the validity of that threat, not with proof of the man's cruelty still stuck in his shoulder, he quickly learned, this man made no empty threats.

Afraid of being stabbed again, the little one got up without wasting another second. A trembling hand grabbed onto the offending object, only moments of hesitance, and then his resolve stood firm as he ripped the blade out with only a slight wince. He wasted no time in getting dressed as quickly as possible, while doing his best to ignore the pain in his shoulder, and then headed out of the house by the appointed time.

The boy was dressed in a smaller version of what Sevas had been wearing, a grey form fitting long-sleeved shirt, coupled with grey pants, not too loose, yet not too tight. They were perfect for all kinds of activities, all the way from simple gymnastics to outright Olympic activities.

Sevas of course was rather impressed, he expected the boy to spend some time reeling from the shock of being stabbed as his previous projects had. He frowned slightly at the memories, so many failures, so many rejects, not one was worthy.

 _This time, this time will be different, I know it,_ he told himself, as if he was trying to convince himself, or maybe he had truly believed it. Not even he himself knew the answer to that particular conundrum.

"Alright then, I believe some introductions would be in order," the older man started. He had a plan for the kid, that much was more than obvious. "My name is Sevas Black, master assassin, prodigy executioner, and one of the handful X-Class Criminals. Some also know me as the Shadow Reaper, I have a 'flee on sight' order," the man declared rather proudly with a slight mock bow.

And while the boy was smarter than those his age, he seemed to have been completely confused on some of the things mentioned. A pronounced frown had been apparent on his face to reflect the inner confusion, one that the older assassin easily picked up on.

The yellow eyed man sighed before he went on to explain, "Criminals and Huntsmen are separated into different levels of skill. Starting with Huntsmen, from lowest to highest they are; D-class, which include Huntsmen hopefuls, most of the time they are only slightly better than someone without an unlocked aura that's also a skilled fighter."

The boy nodded, making the connection between well-trained criminals without an aura and D-class.

"C-class includes Huntsmen in training, generally those who have recently started their huntsmen training in one of the four prestigious schools, they are not worthy of notice. B-class are graduate full-fledged Huntsmen, most of the time they are stationed around the outer-lands to gain experience, they know all the basics, but none of the finer parts of battle.

"A-class mainly contains Mentors; much like the name defines they are those who have chosen to pass on their skills to the next generation. Obviously they have enough experience, skill and ability to be able to teach in the first place. Criminals generally avoid them; they can be tough for most of the people who work in the underworld."

Sevas stopped for only a second to let the information sink in before he continued.

"S-class, these are mostly solo Huntsmen, they have enough skill to be able to handle the Grimm easily. They can be compared to about ten A-class Huntsmen working in tandem, they are not to be taken lightly, and are always to be killed if the chance should present itself.

"Then we have the X-class, much like the S-class they are solo Huntsmen, however their abilities are the thing of legends. They are faster, stronger and much more skilled. Given the advantage of surprise and tactic, one X-class Huntsmen could take out a hundred S-class fighters, which is why the underworld has an unspoken 'flee on sight' rule for them."

The black haired boy took the information about as good as anyone else would have, with a gaping mouth and wide eyes. In his defense, it was a rather unbelievable concept, for there to be such strong people out there.

"Now we have the criminals, much like with Huntsmen we have the same ranking system. D-class are those petty thieves that pickpocket and threaten civilians with a knife for money, they are rather pathetic. C-class is where it gets interesting, generally they are one of two, either an unskilled mobster boss or an apprentice to someone in the underworld."

The boy wondered if that definition technically made him a C-class by default. Probably not, but it would soon.

"B-class includes hired assassins, thieves, and mercenaries. While not exactly cheap, you wouldn't have to be rich either, they are easy to contract and have a success rate of fifty percent.

"A-class includes professionals who are generally hired for a pretty penny and have a code they follow. Otherwise the underworld society becomes trigger happy, because while we may be criminals, there is an order to things. Not many cross the ruling society of the underworld and live to tell about it."

That surprised the boy slightly; he always imagined the criminal side of things to be more chaotic.

"S-class criminals are entirely filled with assassins, killers, bodyguards, and the like. Generally all those who are adept at dismantling a human body like a chain reaction of falling dominos, most of the time they are hired by those who are willing to spend millions. Not many exist, much like S-class huntsmen, there is about two, maybe three dozen S class fighters in the entirety of Remnant."

Sevas paused again, yet this time it wasn't for the benefit of the boy, but rather because what he spoke about next was a point of pride for him.

"Finally we have X-class criminals, much like with S-class they are all professional killers. However they are stronger, faster, and much more powerful overall. They have a 'flee on sight' order by every military, police and huntsman schooling institution on Remnant. Oh, and I nearly forgot but every X-class criminal and huntsmen have a title that is attached to their profile."

Now many kids in the same situation would have soiled themselves in fear. The boy was kidnapped, dragged into an unknown area, only to find out that the man who kidnapped him was an X-class assassin by the title of 'Shadow Reaper'.

However, the boy would have no chance to voice his concerns, no time would be given.

"For the next five years, you will be trained all day and all night. The only rest times you have will be the time required to eat, drink, sleep and the privilege to relieve yourself should you need it."

Sevas made sure to heal the boy's superficial injury with an application of his aura first, he always kept his promises.

And so, the first step to the flames was taken…

* * *

The first two months was by far the hardest the boy had to survive. Each morning he had woken up with some sort of weapon sticking out of his body, it had taken him quite a while to finally wake up at the slightest sound created around him. Though to his dismay, his 'master' in turn started to muffle his footsteps and conceal his presence, practically destroying the spark of hope for a painless awakening.

After the painful awakening however, the day was just filled with various exercises for strengthening the body, while making sure he wouldn't have any bulging muscles that would slow him down in the future.

This day however, was special. Sevas wouldn't be there to wake him up, the elder assassin had told the boy about a contract he had before he abruptly left. For the young boy, this meant he had time to freely explore Mistral, something he never had the chance for before.

It did not mean escape by any means, the boy wasn't stupid enough to think that he could disappear in Mistral–what could practically be considered Sevas' back garden–and not be found and consequently be severely punished by his master.

The boy woke up rather easily, and went through his daily ritual of cleaning up and getting dressed. It had all become a part of his habit, one that was practically–more like literally–beaten into him.

The boy didn't despair; he simply got dressed and went for a walk back to the city of Mistral as they did in fact live quite far. It would take him at least an hour to get there.

The walk hadn't been without thoughts, it had been two months since Sevas had taken him in, and while he trained there wasn't enough time to think. But now, an empty mind was a vulnerable one. Thoughts about his parents haunted him, and truthfully, he wished they were dead…

While it was a rather ominous thought to have, it brought a form of relief that he was loved, and that they simply didn't have the capability to take care of him. It was a wish that kept his darker thoughts at bay, but never for long. Never for too long, and this would be one of those rare cases, where his defenses were brought down by his darker thoughts.

He wondered if maybe he was an accident, never wanted but simply a byproduct of two people who wanted other things. Maybe they just didn't like his heterochromia; many people at the orphanage hated his eyes. Maybe it was the lack of pupils that made people liken him to a monster.

But what the caretaker at the orphanage had said about being left at a bar specifically brought one of the darkest ones. Maybe, just maybe he had been forgotten in a drunken haze, which was the worst he could imagine. To be so _unimportant_ that his parents would simply forget him, it was a thought he did his best to crush. After all, no one simply forgot their child, right?

Lost in thought, the boy noticed that his destination had already been reached. It was the criminal part of Mistral, the place where his life had decided to take a wrong turn, to mock his already growing list of problems.

"What kind of hair is that!?" a childish voice yelled in a fit of laughs. "It looks like a tomato!"

The boy with the mismatched eyes looked toward the source of the yelling, he quickly discovered three young boys surrounding a girl with red hair, and she looked half their age. One of them had a firm grasp on the girl's locks, it looked very painful, and she had tears at the edge of her eyes, slowly threatening escape.

 _What is she doing here?_ He asked himself, the girl looked dressed well; she didn't look like she belonged in the gutter of Mistral. But that didn't matter to him, what could he even do against three boys who looked at least five years older than him?

He was only five, he wasn't a hero.

So he walked the opposite way with a heavy heart weighing on his steps.

 _Coward,_ a stray thought, but it was true. Where was the boy who could defy an assassin? Where did his spine go? Yet no normal person could disparage his actions, he was five years old, courage and bravery took time.

"It's so weird!" another exclaimed as he pulled on the girl's hair yet again, this time hard enough for her to release a painful yell. Her tears didn't stop, she sobbed like the little girl she was.

The nameless boy wasn't far enough away; he had heard the girl cry out. The sobs of pain were unbearable, he knew what it was like to be disliked and bullied because of something one had no control of.

He remembered those times he had always wanted someone to befriend, someone to have his back, someone to listen.

He hadn't even made the conscious decision before his body moved, a fist flying straight at the offending boy's cheek. The bully had let go of the girl's hair as something slammed into him, he fell over like a sack of potatoes.

But this wasn't a movie; a simple surprise attack didn't make them run away in fear. The other two still standing tackled the nameless boy to the ground.

The nameless boy had trained for two months, but that wasn't nearly enough to completely ingrain anything into him or give him enough ability to overcome the natural strength advantage those double his age had.

The girl at least had stopped crying, most likely from the shock that someone would help her, but it was something the nameless boy took comfort in even as the third boy got up and started to beat the ever loving shit out of him.

The nameless boy stood up repeatedly of course, every time they knocked him down he stood back up as if the notion of damage was ludicrous. But that was it, his unwillingness to give up didn't magically give him the ability to win, rather it ended with him being beaten to worse degrees.

It hadn't taken too long, the boys either got tired or bored of beating the child, and after five minutes they left. But not before leaving behind a threat, "You better get lost by the time I come back, I'll make sure my brother gets a turn with you too," the largest boy said as he snickered.

The threat didn't have the intended effect of course, what was more pain? It was temporary, but humiliation from giving up? Regret from cowardice? Those were permanent, and that was why he stood his ground, helped when he didn't truly need to.

The red haired girl had started sobbing again, she had tried to get them off the nameless boy, but she hadn't been strong enough, her pleading had fallen on deaf ears. She was powerless as she watched her little guardian get pummeled.

She knelt beside the bloody boy, and took his hand into hers.

She wanted to comfort him, because even as young as she was, she understood one simple fact. He wasn't obligated to help her; he had done it of his own volition. It was so simple, yet it was also a memory that would shape her future decisions.

"M–my name, i–is Py–Pyr–" she grit her teeth at the inability of pronouncing her own name, what were her parents thinking!?

It was the annoyance that plagued the girl however that seemed to amuse the boy as he let out a low chuckle, quickly followed by a pained grunt.

"Leave before they come back," the nameless one spoke out clearly, which was rather surprising.

The red haired girl quickly shook her head in denial, her red hair flowing almost everywhere with her rigorous rejection. She wouldn't leave the first friend she made alone to whatever it was that awaited him.

"What are you doing here anyway? This part of Mistral is dangerous," he queried, it was a rather valid question; the girl didn't look like she belonged there.

"I… got lost," she replied with a light blush on her cheeks, it wasn't exactly something she was particularly proud of.

The nameless boy stared at her flatly before he chuckled again, with yet another painful grunt that followed right after it. He saw her green eyes as she tried to blink her tears away, it reminded him of his left one, but the girl's had more life in them. She couldn't see the boy's right eye; it was covered by his bangs, something he was very grateful about.

His hair had grown over the two months, and the fact that it hid his heterochromia only made him like it more. Now it was only the fact that his left eye didn't have a pupil that was out of the ordinary.

"What's your name?" she asked randomly, he had assumed she would simply skip the subject since she couldn't give him her own name.

 _I don't know,_ he thought.

"You, don't want to tell me? That's ok," she said, slightly sad at being unable to receive his name. But she wouldn't let that stop her; he had helped her after all.

The emotion hadn't gone unnoticed by the boy.

"Tell you what, today, I protected you. But next time you should be able to protect yourself, become strong, and if you become strong enough, I'll tell you my name," he promised. "But only if you manage a clean hit on me," he added with a challenging smile.

All he really wanted to do was give himself a way out, without breaking the girl's heart. The fact that he had encouraged her to become stronger was a simple bonus. Who knew, maybe one day she'd climb that mountain and claim her place among the greatest.

"Pinky promise?" she asked as she held out her pinky to the boy.

 _What's a pinky promise?_ He asked himself, completely oblivious to the term. So, he did what anyone else would have done in the same situation, improvise. He simply extended his pinky, and let her do whatever she wanted with it. He was only mildly surprised when she locked her pinky with his.

"Right, so, you better leave now and go to your parents," he told her, time had been of the essence, he was too tired to leave, but she could.

"No!" she replied stubbornly, frankly she was starting to annoy him, why couldn't she just listen?

He had to think, of something, anything, to convince her to leave. Silence took over as the nameless boy started to think of ways to get the red haired girl away from him.

"I'm going to cut my hair," the girl announced randomly with tears in her eyes, it seemed like the silence had brought some thoughts into her head, thoughts that didn't truly belong there.

"Why?" he asked full well knowing the answer.

"It's ugly."

"No it's not, I think it's really pretty, you should take care of it," the nameless boy responded with a forced smile, not because he was lying, but because the longer the girl was there with him, the more likely she wouldn't be getting away in peace.

The girl suddenly turned completely red in the face, a phenomenon that completely confused the five year old boy. Did she have a fever?

Funny enough, the girl instantly bolted from his side to a place completely unknown to him.

 _That was easier than I thought it would be,_ he thought. He hadn't taken offence at her leaving him; it was the plan all along after all.

It didn't take even ten seconds before he heard footsteps down the alley, before a man came into view, most likely in his late twenties. The nameless boy was thankful at the girl's quick escape, even if the reason was completely unknown to him.

"Seems you caused my little brother some trouble you little shit," the man said with a sneer, the glint of a knife apparent in his right hand.

It didn't take a genius to put two and two together; this wouldn't end well for the nameless boy. The assassin in training stood with the last of his strength, because if he died, then it would be on his feet.

The man laughed at the futile attempt, and simply walked toward the boy.

And then froze…

Darkness descended on the alleyway, shadows _moved_ with intent, but that wasn't the worst of it. There was an impending feeling of death, a freezing cold that promised a slow and painful demise.

The man felt death's cold scythe around his neck, beckoning him to the afterlife. His body trembled in instinctual fear, the knife completely forgotten as his hands slackened.

" _ **What do we have here?**_ " a voice dripping with killing intent made itself known, the trembling man could see the various ways he could be killed in, all of them in the most terrifying way.

He saw himself burned alive, cut into a thousand miniscule pieces, flayed slowly, drowned, ripped apart, repeatedly stabbed, exploded, imploded, crushed, disintegrated into nothingness, and much more.

Yet the nameless boy stood motionless, he had felt none of it, most likely because none of it was focused on him.

" _ **You would try and kill**_ **my** _ **apprentice!?**_ " the ethereal demonic voice demanded. The voice sounded familiar to the trembling man, it only took moments, but eventually his eyes widened in even more fear as a hint of recognition entered them.

"S–S–Sev–Sevas?" the man did his best to pronounce as his teeth clattered together, it hadn't taken long for him to relieve himself in his pants. The only reason he even recognized the voice was because the assassin frequented the bar he worked at.

The cowardly man had heard legends of the Shadow Reaper, a man so deadly that no one had crossed him, not even other X-class fighters. The reason was simple, fighters were fighters, but there was only a single X-class _assassin_ , and the title was well deserved.

Sevas had once been contracted into taking out another X-class huntsman, and he had completed it without a scratch. It was a feat that put the Shadow Reaper into legends; people whispered his name in murmurs, lest they actually summon him.

A fight between X-class fighters always ended with large amounts of collateral damage, whether it was in land or people, and they _always_ came out with grievous wounds. Killing X-class fighters was by no means easy, even S-rank assassins failed because they would be easily detected by heightened senses or experienced instincts.

Sevas had done the impossible; his skills in stealth and assassination were in another realm completely. The Shadow Reaper had sneaked his way into the Atlas weaponry showcasing, his target being the main guard for the multi-million piece of technology. There were hundreds of soldiers and dozens of guests all around, yet Sevas had simply made it to his target like a shadow, slit his throat unawares, and disappeared. No one had even noticed the body for hours to come.

Even worse was his reputation when it came to simple rabble that crossed him. There were only two ways one could go down after crossing Sevas Black, either a slow and painful death, which was by far the kinder option.

Or they would be crippled beyond recognition; most would plead and beg for death after the state they were left in.

Before the terror could go down further to paralyze his limbs, the trembling man instantly picked up the knife as Sevas watched calmly.

The man slit his own throat without hesitation, effectively escaping Sevas' judgment.

Sevas didn't even spare another moment glancing at the corpse, and instead re-focused on the boy he had apprenticed.

"What happened?" Sevas asked, full-well knowing the turn of events, he had been keeping a watch on the boy, the contract long before completed.

"I… I did what I thought was right," the nameless one answered with conviction. He believed in his actions, the memory of the smile on the red haired girl's face only reaffirmed them.

It hadn't been the correct answer.

The boy _flew_ straight into a wall, as Sevas had thrown him right into it.

"What was right?" he asked calmly, "you stupid, stupid boy," he continued as he walked next to the gasping child.

"Are you going to be there for her tomorrow?" he asked, "what did you gain by your actions, you stupid boy? Tell me."

"It was the right thing to do," he replied, and he believed it. He felt that what he had done had been a good thing, it had meaning, purpose. He'd take the beating, it wasn't anything new.

What he hadn't expected however, was a laugh, Sevas had _laughed_ for the first time in two months, and it was at him.

"Right!?" he laughed even harder. "Boy, there is no higher purpose. There are no gods. No arbiters of right and wrong. I don't ask you to like reality. I only ask you to be strong enough to face it. There is nothing beyond this. There is only the perfection we attain by becoming weapons, as strong and merciless as a sword. There is no essential good in living. Life is nothing in itself. It's a place marker that proves who's winning, and we are the winners. We are always the winners. There is nothing by the winning. Even winning means nothing. We win because it's an insult to lose. The ends don't justify the means. The means don't justify the ends. There is no one to justify to. There is no justification."

The boy listened, but didn't comprehend. That couldn't be right, there simply _had_ to be a distinction between rights and wrongs, what would be the point of it all if there wasn't?

"Let me give you an example," Sevas said with a dark sneer, "The girl you met, her name is Pyrrha Nikos, cute girl; she just became five years old today. I've seen her mother around. Maybe I should pay them a visit, eh? What do you think kid? I'll go and introduce myself, it would be rude not to right? After all you did your best to protect that girl, would be a shame if you never saw her again, right?" he mocked with eyes that promised, no, _foretold_ death.

The boy, while small, understood what Sevas had been saying. He would kill the girl he protected and her family, he had the ability to erase whatever good the nameless boy had done.

"Tell you what, this one time, I'll let it slide," he said, and Sevas could almost _taste_ the hope that exuded from the boy. "But if it happens again, someone dies, understood?"

The boy didn't answer, the lesson from two months ago still rang true in his ears, _if you are not free to say no, then your yes is meaningless,_ he repeated to himself.


	2. Chapter 2 - Lost

**Author Note: First I'd like to thank everyone for giving the fic a chance :D I'll try and keep up with expectations, though I already have a path set with the fic I won't dismiss advice or criticism.**

 **Again, I don't own RWBY.**

* * *

Three months were dedicated to ingraining as much hand to hand and weaponry combat as possible. A pleasant surprise for Sevas however, was the fact that the boy seemed to not only understand everything shown to him by a single glance, but he would perfect it to a degree even he hadn't expected, the boy had literally been _devouring_ the information.

The nameless boy had taken to practicing in the garden every day for as long as his body could handle.

"Pack up, we're leaving," Sevas ordered the boy, disrupting the daily ritual.

The boy however didn't answer, only did as told.

Sevas watched the boy pack, the nameless child had done well over the months, and he had taken to his training like fish to water. He wondered sometimes if it was because of his young age, or simply Sevas' restriction on anything else that wasn't related to his training. After all, if you leave someone with only one path, they are bound to _only_ think about that path.

Sevas had plans of leaving Mistral ever since the boy had created a bond with Pyrrha, it was a fragile bond, and they were only five years old. But the elder assassin made it a point to crush anything so useless to smithereens.

Just like that, Sevas had decided to take the boy and move to a village far from the kingdoms, a particular one called 'Kuroyuri'.

* * *

Kuroyuri, they arrived not too long after, simply a week, give or take a day. Sevas immediately started training the boy to the bone, the nameless child had to be strong for what Sevas had planned for him.

Time passed without notice, day after day the boy trained, not much of the world was known to him.

Two more months were full contact combat training, both bare handed and armed. The boy had taken quite a few scars from the 'love taps' as his master called it, but he improved with each session. Though he never landed a single hit on the older assassin, the man simply eclipsed him in both skill and physique, he was at his mercy.

Then five months were spent to generally everything. Sparring sessions were included right after being taught a new stance or the handling of a new weapon. Stealth skills were taught not long after.

They boy hadn't left the house even once over their entire stay, purely focusing on training, sleep and food. He never had the chance to meet others of his age, or even just see what the village was like.

The boy became six years old, far more skilled than he had been a year ago. Sevas had finally decided that it was time; he would unlock the boy's aura and move on to the 'next stage' as he kept telling the boy over the time they spent together.

* * *

"Today I'll be unlocking your aura, while normally I'd be against unlocking someone's aura so early in training, we have to make an exception for you so we can move on to the next stage," the silver haired man explained with a completely indifferent expression. "Come here."

The still unnamed boy moved immediately, the time spent with Sevas had taught him to listen; otherwise there was always some form of consequence. There was _always_ some sort of consequence to disobeying his master, and truth be told, he had come to see the jaded, strict, uncaring older man as some sort of a twisted father figure.

The man taught him, fed him, clothed him, healed his wounds even when most of them were caused by him… and he simply didn't have anyone else.

When life gives you lemons…

The assassin placed a hand on the boy's shoulders and spoke, "For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this we become the shadows, untamed, unbowed, unchained, ever-present and ethereal. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by your own will, _devour_ the infinity."

And so, Sevas reached inside of the boy, to find and draw out his aura.

Yet he just couldn't seem to find any trace of it, he dug even deeper with desperation, he would not have another failure, especially not because of something as silly as him not being able to find the kid's soul. Every human being without exception had a soul.

He dug deeper.

Deeper…

 _Deeper…_

He went in so deep, his consciousness had completely sunk into the abyss, and that was where he would find it.

Something that should have stayed buried…

The master's eyes snapped open, and a world of darkness welcomed him. That was the only way Sevas could describe the place, it was pure black, and the sky had not a single star or cloud. The ground however was peculiar, he seemed to be walking _on_ water, yet the water looked pitch black because of the lack of light, its depths completely unknown to him.

"What the hell?" he whispered under his breath. It was rare, if not unheard of for those who had no training in aura to have built an inner world. Only experts at the S-class and above had that kind of mental fortitude, one that came with comprehension and experience. Yet the kid had somehow built an inner world of his own?

"Though it is kind of bland, not much of a world," he commented to no one around. Though he wasn't so sure about that, ever since he had stepped into the inner world, he had a nagging feeling that he was being watched by _something_.

But he pressed onward; a soul would generally be in the core of an inner world. Though the inner world did explain his inability to find the kid's soul easily, it was well protected. All he needed to do was touch it, to make the kid aware of its existence, which would be all he would need to do.

A flash of red and green rushed under the water.

Yet there was no disturbance in the water itself, as if the movement under it was but an illusion.

Sevas however grew increasingly tense, he still felt watched, followed… He felt like prey, and that was _unacceptable_.

"COME OUT YOU FUCKING COWARD!" he bellowed as he challenged the mysterious predator in a fit of rage.

In hindsight, he would realize that this would be the one mistake that'd follow him to his nightmares for the rest of his life.

As if responding to the challenge, the calm sea of black behind Sevas suddenly _exploded_ as something emerged from it, something very large, and very fast.

"_▄▄▄████" a bestial roar pierced the sky as the sound seemed to reverberate right _through_ the old assassin's very soul. It was incomparable to the roar of a lion, gorilla, tiger or even the most dangerous of Grimm. Without even turning around Sevas knew, he just knew, that he had awoken a thing of nightmares.

A singular thought passed, _Fuck all kinds of duck._

The silver haired assassin turned around to face the would-be-predator, only for his heart to jump to his throat at the sight that stood in front of him. His confidence fell in shambles as his hands started to tremble slightly in fear, his pupils dilated erratically as he was nearly blinded by the light.

Fear, _he_ had felt fear, a man who many would describe as the incarnation of terror itself. Many would whisper his name in fear of somehow calling his attention upon them, but what stood before him, it was a _monster_.

There stood the beast in all his glory, the _Leviathan,_ the _Devourer_ of all. At first glance it seemed very much like a snake, except for the fact that its length spanned far further than Sevas' eyes could even see, it had very large and sharp fangs, fit for a predator. However the most terrifying thing about it was its eyes, four eyes, two on each side, two large red ones and two smaller green ones right above them, all of them emanating an abundance of blinding light, much like the sun. Yet they were completely empty, like a great pit of darkness, a pit of _hunger_.

The great Leviathan simply stared at the puny human beneath it, mocking it, daring it to do something, _anything_ at all. But it would not come to be, because a fool that would knowingly challenge a beast like that, had not been born yet, and such a birth would simply never come to be.

So instead of waiting for the stock still assassin to do something the Leviathan decided to take action.

"_▄▄▄████" it roared once more, just as deadly as the first. Sevas didn't even notice the great beast move before he was eaten, though eaten would be an overstatement, the beast had practically _inhaled_ Sevas.

"NO!" Sevas exclaimed as he awoke right back in the garden, in front of the boy he had been training for almost a year now. Only a singular thought passing through his mind, _what just happened?_

How had he gotten back? The only way for him to comeback would have been to unlock the kid's aura by coming into contact with his soul, or voluntarily leaving, neither of which he had done. The question hung heavy in his mind.

 _C-could that have been his soul?_ He questioned with a pang of fear, yet there was also a hint of joy hidden within all of that terror.

While his explanation was rather disturbing, it was the only thing that made sense; beasts did not live within souls. It only made sense that said beast was the actual manifestation of the kid's soul living within the boy's inner world, yet that thought alone caused a shiver to go down the experienced assassin's mind.

But for now he would put it out of his mind and focus on training the kid, when the time came, he would know for sure, the kid would not disappoint him. He could expect great things from the boy.

After a short while the assassin had expected an overwhelming release of aura, after what he had to go through, to prove that the process did indeed work. But what the older assassin saw was…peculiar. The boy's aura was black at a first glance, nothing too weird about that, the color of ones aura generally coincided with their life experience and their very nature.

However when Sevas focused on the outlines of the boy's silhouette, he didn't seea black light, but rather saw the very disconcerting _lack_ of light. The slightly blurred edge around his aura reminded him of black holes that simply devoured everything with their unrelenting gravity.

The boy didn't emit a black aura, but it looked like it was black, because there was no light there, as if it was being _devoured_ by his aura.

The boy on the other hand had felt a rush of energy, a feeling of elation, of weightlessness at the release of his aura. He had also felt something else, something deeper within his very being, but it was very elusive, like trying to put light on a shadow in hopes of trying to further investigate it. It was pointless to think about.

The boy had also noticed the confused expression his master had been sporting for about an entire minute. Something he had never seen the old assassin do before, the man always seemed to have everything figured out, nothing seemed to be able to keep his interest for longer than a second. Never had he seen the silver haired man in such a thoughtful expression.

"Master?" he voiced out his concern in a single word.

The voice of the boy immediately snapped him out of his thoughts, "Hmm? Right, let us go outside for a bit, time to experiment."

The boy nodded once as always and followed his master obediently. They came out to a clearing that the boy was all too familiar with, the garden where they would 'spar' every day. He used the term loosely because his master beating the crap out of him could hardly be called that.

While the greenery and sunlight was very relaxing, the mood was always ruined by the pain that followed his presence in the rather large garden.

The boy saw the older assassin enter his battle stance, one of many, and took it as a sign to prepare for battle.

Silence…it reigned supreme for a moment. A moment that was ruined with a slight breeze, a rather comfortable one, it was gentle and warm.

But it was not a moment the boy could lose himself in, because they had both moved at the first disturbance. The elder assassin made sure to hold back, as always. He did not need a broken experiment, he needed the boy alive for years to come, or at least he would hope the boy stayed alive.

Fists flew and all of them were simply slapped away by the older assassin. While the boy was indeed a genius when it came to fighting, he still lacked the ability his body would give him when he became older, at the tender age of six, he could barely keep up with the older assassin. Something the boy knew all too well, which was why, he always fought with a plan.

The boy knew not to play fair with the silver haired man.

The little one went for a high kick as he bent his body the opposite way and downwards, which to anyone else would seem like a rookie mistake, but flawless skill would simply not take the X-class assassin down.

The kick was blocked but the mission was accomplished, the boy turned on the ball of his other foot and swiped his hand, a present he picked up as he was going down, given to his master. A handful of dirt, aimed to blind, to give him a chance.

But the experienced assassin simply knew too well, he closed his eyes and effortlessly tripped the kid to the ground and laid his foot on the exposed neck. Game over.

"Nice thinking, but not well enough," the older one started. "Anyway let me see now."

The yellow eyed man took a knife and threw it at the boy's shoulder, expecting instinctive self-preservation to activate his aura…

The universe _loved_ to fuck with his expectations.

"SHIT!" the boy cried out, a colorful vocabulary learned from the best of examples. What could one expect from a killer for hire? Definitely not proper parenthood, that's for sure.

In the pain induced anger, the boy grabbed onto Sevas' leg, snapping him out of his pondering as to why the boy's aura didn't protect him. Sevas felt his aura depleting, in fact, he felt like he was dying.

Something was trying to _devour_ the core of his strength, his aura, his very soul. Any further and he might have died, fortunately for him, he found the strength to kick the boy away from himself before collapsing on a knee and gasping for breath.

"What?" he asked out loud at the twisted turn of events, as he looked up toward the boy. The injury had healed, and the bloody knife had dropped on the floor. The last kick seemed to have knocked him out.

He already had a theory, but it needed to be tested. Everything always needed to be tested, but this particular test would have to wait for another year, he had to get the boy prepared mentally so he wouldn't break completely.

He wrote the boy a note saying that he was allowed to go out for the day, after all he had done very well and Sevas was rather satisfied with what he found out.

The elder assassin had a contract to pick up from the village elder, something along the lines of a protection contract because of Grimm activity. It would be the easiest mission he would most likely do, but he would have to see if he accepted it or not.

* * *

The nameless boy with mismatched eyes woke not long after; it was still morning, the sun still up and glowing brightly. It took only two seconds for the boy to notice the note stuck on his chest, while slightly confused at the new way of communication his master decided to adopt, he took the note and read it anyway.

Not even a moment later, the brightest smile had been adorned on the boy's face. Obviously very happy at being allowed to leave the stuffy house for once, to explore and meet people, that would be a nice change of pace for the boy.

The nameless child wasted not a moment as he left, still in his training clothes, completely in black. But fortunately remembered to lock the door behind him, because if he had forgotten, he was sure Sevas would have punished him by making him drink some sort of non-lethal but very painful poison again.

The kid walked aimlessly, yet happily with a slight grin on his face. Though he hadn't seen anyone his age for a while, he wondered if it could be possible that the village was made entirely of adults.

That was not a situation he would particularly like, because his entire life, he hadn't met a single kind adult. The first had tried to sell him to slavery, the elder assassin while basically a father figure was still abusive, and the elder brother of the bully had basically tried to kill him.

Pondering his past encounters with adults, the nameless kid saw a boy around his age, most likely six years old wearing a completely green outfit. Although the attribute that stood out the most would be that pink lock of hair on his head.

The boy had been staring at something in an alleyway, wide eyed and with a slight tinge of fear.

Interested the nameless child decided to take a look at what was so interesting, never would he have guessed that the saying, 'history repeats itself' would ever apply to him in his life.

"Where'd you get that bread? I didn't see you pay for it thief!" a boy's voice could be heard within the laughter.

The scene in front of him awoke memories of the once red haired girl in Mistral. He saw three boys, bullying a single girl, though unlike the red haired girl, this one had short orange hair with green eyes, and looked homeless.

On closer examination, the nameless kid saw the moldy bread she had been grasping, the children's cruelty being focused on her inability feed herself properly. It was cruel, far crueler than the nameless child could have expected from others his age.

Was that why the boy in green next to him hadn't stepped in? Was he afraid? Or did he simply not care? He didn't know…

What was he supposed to do then? Would he defy his master once again, protect someone in order to defy the cruel reality the world seemed to have been dead set on enforcing? Or would he walk away, let her deal with her problems.

He shook his head of all doubt the doubt that haunted him, he knew he could fight and he knew he could win. He had trained for a year with the best, it was the only thing he had done, what would he be reduced to if he left one girl out to fend for herself?

With his mind made up he dashed straight at them, it wasn't like last time, this time he was trained, he knew what he was doing, and he was confident.

"Leave her alone!" he shouted as he slammed a kick on one of the bully's shoulder, using the shoulder as a foothold he spun and slammed his other foot into another kid's head, easily knocking him out.

The fight didn't last more than two seconds, if it could even be called that. He had the advantage of surprise, and he had injured one, while knocking another out.

"Mom, help me!" One of them shouted as he ran away, the injured one quickly followed suit.

For some reason the boy in green had already tried to run away before the fight had even started, fear had taken him over as he turned around and ran into an older man, who also wore a darker shade of green.

The older man looked with disappointment at the young child who fell in front of him.

"Father?" the boy in green asked.

The man simply looked at the area the fight had taken place, his eyes locked on to the nameless boy and the girl.

The girl ran in fear of something, maybe she wasn't used to older people either, or maybe she just had bad experiences with them in general. He wouldn't be surprised, it took some unpleasant ways such as theft or looking through trash to survive certain days when one is homeless, he understood that.

But the nameless child didn't run, he simply _wouldn't_ run.

His bang covered his red eye as always, so the older man only looked into his singular green eye, and saw the courage the boy had. The man was very well aware of his stern look; it made many children wary of him, but this one had refused to be taken by fear.

The elder man looked down toward the boy in green again and asked with disappointment quite evident, "Do you wish to run like the rest of them?"

The boy's head fell in shame, shame at not doing the right thing, at not being able to stay true to himself and being engulfed with fear. But the nameless child didn't think badly of the boy for it, the boy wasn't like him, the nameless child lived with death hand to hand, at the edge of a blade. His only hesitation came from what his master had taught him, fear, after his training, was an emotion foreign to the boy.

The man spoke again as he knelt down in front of the green clothed boy, but this time his eyes reflected affection, and spoke, "Sometimes the worst action to take, is taking no action at all. Go home; I need to speak with the mayor."

The boy left not long after, but not before giving a final glance at the nameless child. The boy with the mismatched eyes noticed the glance, and responded with a smile and a wave of the hand to the pink eyed boy, a color; he noticed that matched his lock of hair.

The child smiled before he left, leaving the nameless child alone.

"Thanks," a timid voice called out from behind the nameless boy.

"Hmm?" he hummed as he turned around, only to see the short orange haired girl looking at him, a slight forced smile adorned her face.

The nameless child simply gave her an exaggerated mock bow which made her giggle slightly. After giving her thanks she waved the boy goodbye and left.

The boy felt satisfied, in his eyes, he had just made two new friends, two _whole_ new friends, one of them had even _spoken_ to him! No one his age had spoken to him since Pyrrha, he only wished he could have learned his new friend's name.

In his elation however, he never noticed the presence behind him.

Not until an explosive force slammed into his right shoulder, sending him careening into the wall on his left. The impact to his head left him dazed for a while, the world looked blurry and his head hurt beyond belief.

"You never learn…" but his hearing was good enough to understand something, he was being watched, his master had been following him. The voice was full of disappointment as he spoke, "Well, I'm a man of my word, and _fortunately_ , I didn't accept the contract yet."

The words made no sense to the boy, but it didn't matter, because not long after, he lost his consciousness to the deep abyss…

* * *

"–ke up!" a voice called out. "Wake up!"

Without a moments delay the nameless child's eyes snapped open in attention, no hesitation between waking and flipping into a ready stance. The boy had learned over the time spent with the master assassin, because learning was a necessity.

"What?" he asked after giving momentary attention to his surroundings, there were no threats in sight. It was night time, but the boy had been standing at the edge of a forest on a cliff.

"Good morning or night… well anyway, it is a good thing you woke up," Sevas started. "I wouldn't want you to miss out on me delivering on my promise."

The nameless boy understood, he had defied his master, consequences would follow. But he didn't understand why they were situated so far away from the village. After all what would be the difference in being punished outside or inside their living space.

"I'm sure you're confused as to why we're here, let me explain," the elder assassin spoke with mirth. "You see, today I had received a protection contract, and while I don't really take those much, I _was_ planning on taking this one. The village elder spoke about a horde of Grimm coming toward the village; they needed an S-class fighter at least, so imagine the elder's surprise when he found an X-class assassin in his village.

"The old man was so happy he wouldn't have to cause panic within the village, and would instead get rid of the Grimm problem by hiring me," Sevas spoke in a convoluted manner, not getting straight to the point. The kid understood that his master wanted him to figure it out.

This was a punishment, but the nameless child couldn't understand how an extermination contract would in any way be considered a punishment for him, and that's when he caught it.

 _I_ was _planning on taking this one;_ the assassin in training repeated the words of his master to himself.

Sevas was planning on letting the village be overrun by the Grimm; the elder assassin was planning on letting an entire village die to teach the boy the consequences of defiance.

"No! Please, it was my fault, don't let them die," the boy pleaded with the older assassin. "I only helped one little girl, please don't punish them for my sins."

The boy hadn't noticed, yet slowly but surely, his mind had re-arranged actions and meanings. He truly believed that helping the bullied girl had been a sin, a sin to be repaid in blood according to his master.

Now the boy stood, tears held back in his eyes, only waiting for his master's judgment. The boy was weak, he alone couldn't help anyone. Even if he wanted to, what guarantee would there be that his master didn't kill the next innocent citizen for it?

But his hopes were crushed when he heard his master… _laughing_.

Sevas knelt in front of the boy, standing at eye level to get his point across.

"Being weak is a sin. Being weak prevents you from deciding your own fate. Being weak allows you to be trampled upon," Sevas spoke with a smirk. "Doing what one likes is the right of the _powerful_!"

 _It's my fault,_ the boy thought as he finally broke. Sevas had been right, his master had _always_ been right. If the boy had been powerful, he wouldn't have needed the elder assassin's help to save the village. If the boy had been powerful enough, Sevas wouldn't have been able to stand in his way, to deny him his one wish.

Sevas on the other hand had never been so happy; he had finally gotten the boy to become a proper assassin. There was always that one aspect about the boy, which should have never been present in one who works as a blade.

The nameless child always had a fire in his eyes, a light that couldn't be extinguished. It wasn't courage or will, no, because both of those were needed in an assassin of Sevas' caliber.

It was _hope_. A blinding light that even with the extended time with Sevas just hadn't extinguished, it didn't matter if the elder assassin beat, whipped, or cut the boy open. It was always there, every single time he looked him in the eyes.

 _Qrow,_ Sevas thought with disgust. Sevas had always known who the boy's father was; the boy looked too much like the X-class Huntsman, The Soul Reaver. The black hair, the singular red eye, and the shape of his face, though Sevas could see some aspects mixed in with those, probably the mother.

Besides, every huntsmen and high-class criminal knew of the boy, at least, everyone at the S-class and above did.

Years ago the Soul Reaver had gone completely insane looking for his heir, the underworld of Mistral had lost five hundred B-Class fighters, fifty A-Class fighters, and three S-class fighters on that fateful day.

Normally damage like that to the military of a city would have severe repercussions, yet Qrow had managed to get away from it all with but a slap on the wrist, knowing someone as powerful as Ozpin had its benefits.

Sevas had found the entire situation hilarious, especially when several requests had come up for the containment of the Soul Reaver known as Qrow. Of course no one dared order his death, his connections to a certain headmaster had been well known, and not many wanted to tango with that specific X-class Huntsman.

Truthfully even Sevas wasn't sure of his chances against the coffee addicted headmaster, even with the element of surprise on his side, his chances were only sixty percent, which actually said a lot, Sevas knew of only a handful of people that could bring his chances below the eightieth percentile.

Sevas had taken Qrow down easily, the Soul Reaver had been consumed by rage and loss, and it had not made for a proper fight. He remembered a conversation the two had after Qrow's capture, just as he had been walking the red-eyed man to the gates of mistral.

* * *

" _So, Soul Reaver," Sevas spoke with a mocking tone, one that Qrow had not even noticed as he wallowed in his loss. "What sort of unholy task had you so riled up?"_

 _Sevas had been curious, mainly because Qrow Branwen was very well known in certain circles, and none of them had ever pegged him as an emotionally damaged brat. Because only an emotionally damaged brat would have the mindset of kicking down the door of the most well-known criminal organization, and then cripple most of them either mentally or physically. While none of them would ever be in fighting condition again, it seemed that the Huntsman held back just enough to not kill anybody, something that Sevas found rather soft._

 _Although, killing that many would have most likely created problems not only for Qrow, but also for those who backed him._

" _My son…" the wallow man started with a whisper._

" _Some idiot killed your son?" Sevas asked incredulously. The Shadow Reaper didn't believe that this would be the end of it all if that was the case, if the Soul Reaver's child had been killed, Sevas wouldn't be surprised if in the near future corpses started to pile._

" _My sister disappeared a while ago," Qrow started, but his eyes were dull, he was most likely speaking in a state of despair, purely just wanting to get the crushing information out of his heart. "I thought she died. Lost myself in alcohol while I was in Mistral taking care of my son, he was only a year old. His mother had been busy preparing a schedule for the combat class in Beacon. I–I forgot."_

 _Sevas listened patiently, yet not feeling the slightest sympathy for the man either. He was an assassin, sympathy and other such emotions held no place in his heart._

" _Do you want to know the funny thing?" Qrow asked after a couple minutes of silence._

" _Hmm," Sevas replied noncommittally._

" _Raven left on her own," Qrow said as he chuckled to himself, most likely out of the stress weighing on him. The reason his whole world crumbled down, was an assumption made in a moment of fear._

* * *

It was a big surprise for Sevas to run into the boy about four years later. Sevas, then and there, decided to train the boy to become the best killer in the world, an assassin without peer. He wondered what the nameless child's potential would be, to be trained from such a young age with Qrow's blood flowing through his veins. The possibilities were limitless.

It was also his way of flipping the bird to Qrow; he could only imagine what it would be like when father and son met years later, when the long lost son returns a _monster_.

Multitudes of roars could then be heard from far away, Sevas grinned from ear to ear.

It was time.

The elder assassin pulled the younger boy to the edge of the cliff, to get a very good view of the village's last day standing.

"Burn this day into your mind, all of these people, the elderly, the young, and even the unborn," Sevas spoke as he pointed toward the village being trampled and ravaged by different types of Grimm. "They suffer because you decided you needed a heart, you're a selfish brat who wanted to feel good about yourself by helping others, and now they suffer because of you."

Sevas held the boy's unmoving body in place as they both watched the village burn to the ground. They could hear the screams of terror, young and old getting ripped to shreds and eaten. The children weren't spared as they screamed for help, only to find themselves in the jaws of Grimm ripping them apart slowly, slow enough to _enjoy_ the pain they were inflicting.

All the while the nameless boy watched with dull, dead eyes. It was his own fault, he understood that very well. He understood what his master had told him, he had protected so he himself wouldn't feel ashamed of not taking action, so he could know that he had brought happiness to another.

It was selfishness, not benevolence, and the villagers would suffer for his actions.

He understood the message his father figure had been trying to teach him, it was rather simple. He was weak, and that was why he was powerless. To be weak was a sin, the world didn't accept weakness. Only strength and power could mold a path, only those with a blade were winners.

On that grim day, the boy decided. He wouldn't only wield a blade, he would _become_ the blade, he would become the shadows everyone feared, because only then would he be able to be free.

 _Freedom isn't the highest good. Power is. For without power, your freedom can be taken,_ the boy repeated to himself what he had been told by his master.

And so he watched, watched the consequences of his actions, he gazed at the reality he lived in and accepted it.

On that day, the nameless boy died, as an assassin was birthed.

* * *

 **Author Note: Yeah, so we get to find out who the father is, makes you wonder who the mother is eh? You can probably guess, or maybe not. You'll find out though, soon. I personally quite like this chapter mainly because of the transformation the MC undergoes in regards to morality and viewpoint, if you liked it, then I'm sure you'll love the coming chapter, and if not... Yeah I got nothing.**


	3. Chapter 3 - Identity

**Author Note: Thanks for all the reviews and positive feedback :D**

 **I want to quickly answer a question a Guest posed (there will be no spoilers). Will the boy kill his master? Eh, you're going to have to find out. Honestly even I haven't decided yet. But trust me, that particular can of worms isn't going to be opened for a LONG time. Like... Volume 4? Maybe even further.**

* * *

"Ready?" Sevas asked the younger boy.

Sometime had passed, and the two had taken root in Vale. The boy had become seven years old not too long ago, ready, according to Sevas, for the next stage.

It was a big day for the boy; Sevas had picked out an assassination contract on some B-class rouge killer. It was time for the boy to show the fruits of his training. It was the dead of the night, and they were situated on top of a roof across the building of their target, if nothing went awry, the mission would be an easy one.

"Yes."

"What are you waiting for then? Go!" Sevas ordered with a slight frown on his features.

Without the need for another signal the boy moved, he jumped from the building in one swift motion, and landed on the balcony of the target. The boy was silent, careful, and overall, ready.

He quickly went through the information on his target in his head, recalling all the important bits. The target used two short swords with in-built dust enhancers, while his skills were mediocre at best, and his semblance was shape-shifting, though it was limited to animals.

On the other hand, apparently the target never figured out how to transform into larger animals, which was why he was limited to rodents and smaller birds, it was good for infiltration. Not so much for combat.

Most of the information was insurance, the target was asleep, and as one trained by Sevas in the art of stealth, the _kill_ would be an easy one.

Yes, it was finally the day Sevas had decided for the boy to get blood on his hands. It was no surprise; the plan had always been to make the boy a killer, a _monster_.

The black haired boy entered through the window silently, not a single thing disturbed with his entry. Much like a ghost the boy made his way toward the target's bed, and stood… hesitated.

 _Can I do this?_ He asked himself, unsure of what he was about to do. The first kill was always a moral dilemma.

But it was only a moment of hesitation; it had soon disappeared, as if it was never there to begin with, the reminder of the burning village steeled his resolve. With eyes devoid of all emotion, he braced himself, the empty eyes would have no doubt reminded Sevas of a nightmare he had about the day he unlocked the boy's aura, should he have chanced a glance of the nameless kid.

The boy covered his right hand in aura.

After a week of experimentation with Sevas, they had found out a great many things about his particular aura. For one, it didn't grant him protection like it normally should have, however it had a _devouring_ property.

Anything that came into contact with his aura could be devoured easily, without resistance, which was also the reason why Sevas had gotten hold of a contract so soon for the kid, at the tender age of seven.

He wanted to test a certain theory.

The boy's hand now covered in black, shaped like a shadowy claw, came down and slammed right into the sleeping man's heart.

There was no resistance, no cry, only the brief reaction of the eyes fluttering open and then closing… permanently. And while it was a quick moment, the nameless child had _seen_ the life leave the man, he understood what he had done, and it didn't matter.

And that was when it happened.

Right before the boy could remove his hand from the man's heart, a surge of power went right through him, an almost electrifying sensation.

The power felt foreign, yet it also felt… complete.

The success of this experiment would not be good news for the boy, though it would be the best of news for the elder assassin…

* * *

Sevas had extended their time on the job, only to acquire some more contracts. So far, the boy had the ability to shape-shift, ability over shadows, and the ability of steel. His supply of aura, as Sevas found out, was practically infinite, as it seemed to devour energy from all around him when needed.

Although the process could be easily controlled with some effort, to let him stop the regeneration or even use living sources to increase it rate by an entirely new level.

The boy had been best at controlling his shape-shifting ability, because of the depths of his aura, he had been able to transform into all sorts of animals without any problem, sometimes even able to make them the size of an adult male in height. Though for some reason they would always be black in color, Sevas theorized it having something to do with his aura, and that trying to change that would be a futile effort.

In comparison his ability with shadows was mediocre; he could move shadows and make them tangible for a very brief moment, nothing to boast about, because while powerful, they were almost impossible to control. Sevas had repeatedly told him to further increase his understanding of the abilities, learning about them and becoming one with them would help him very much in the long run.

Sevas had once given the boy a simple example, he had said that if a person could control magnetism, yet had only superficial knowledge of the ability, then they would be able to move objects twice the human size at best.

However if the same person had found completion with their power, a form of serenity, then it wouldn't be surprising for them to be able to move entire buildings, and manipulate the iron within the human body.

That advice had helped him greatly when it came to his abilities with steel; his great affinity with weaponry had come in handy. He could easily create weapons of basic standards, and while good in quality, they could never be something complicated like most multi-use weapons in Remnant. But that was more than enough for him, Sevas had taught him with steel basic weapons to begin with. Always saying that as long as it can kill, then it should be good enough, no need to twist it into something it is not.

Sevas entered the boy's room, as always, without knocking. But the boy was far too used to the invasion of privacy; it hadn't even registered as something out of the ordinary.

"Pack up, we're going to an island, I have a contact I need to get some information from," Sevas told the boy.

The nameless boy didn't argue, didn't even show a hint of dissatisfaction at being ordered around like a dog.

Because there wasn't even a single spark of humanity left within him…

And so they boarded an aircraft to the island called Patch.

* * *

For a change, Sevas had decided to completely train the boy into the ground before he left to do his business. A fine job of that he did indeed, the nameless boy had been bruised from top to bottom, and although the bruises had been visibly healing, his exhaustion wouldn't leave, his legs wobbled, threatening him to drop.

Sevas had made sure the boy would be in no condition to explore; their business would be a short one. But for once, Sevas had underestimated the boy's curiosity.

The nameless child left the small safe house Sevas owned; the master assassin had made sure to have a safe house basically everywhere. It came in handy whenever Sevas wanted to travel in comfort as he completed his contracts.

The boy was tired, but he had enough in him to walk around and simply satisfy his curiosity, it was most likely the one thing Sevas would never be able to beat out of him.

Over the time the boy spent with Sevas, the less he thought about his parentage. In fact, he hadn't wondered about the information for almost half a year, the boy simply didn't have the time to think about insignificant things like that when he trained with his life on the line.

A patch of bright yellow hair caught the corner of the boy's eye; it was rather bright, almost like the sun. The nameless boy focused on the blonde girl, and saw something rather peculiar. She was around his age, most likely the same age as him, but for the life of him, he didn't and couldn't understand why she had been dragging a small red wagon behind her.

Though it wasn't the wagon that confused him, it was the small girl curled up in it, sleeping. A girl bundled up in a red cloak, obviously not bothered by being in a moving wagon.

Being the curious child he was, the boy with mismatched eyes decided to follow them, tired or not, with his expertise in stealth there would be absolutely no way for a seven year old to catch sight of him.

The kid followed the duo, wondering about their destination. Though the boy quickly noticed how far it was from the village, it didn't seem right, any further and it would most likely be Grimm territory.

His master had told him not to protect the weak, it was unnatural, and nature's rule had always been the survival of the fittest. But he wouldn't need to protect them if he just warned them, yeah, that was a good idea.

He didn't need to actively help someone to actually help them. And just like that flicker of hope rekindled itself in the boy's eyes, it was weak, almost as if it was truly the last bit of it, but it was enough.

"Hey!" The boy shouted, effectively causing the blonde haired girl to let out a very adorable yelp.

The blonde child turned around and narrowed her lilac colored eyes with annoyance at the approaching boy; she apparently did not appreciate being startled.

"You shouldn't go that way, it's dangerous," the boy warned, feeling rather accomplished as he did so. "You should head back."

The girl narrowed her eyes even further as a scowl almost formed on her face; she seemed driven, in search of something important to her.

"No, leave me alone," she told the nameless boy, completely missing his broken expression at being shooed away.

He had only wanted to help, and while the burning village of Kuroyuri had taught him a lesson, he was sure that giving advice wouldn't get him or anyone else into trouble with Sevas.

The blonde girl kept up her pace forward, yet the boy followed despite being told off.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" the boy asked, trying to somehow create a form of communication to convince the girl to turn back.

The girl looked back at him, but saw no harm in giving her name to someone her age, "Yang, Yang Xiao-Long."

Unknowingly, that day, Yang Xiao-Long had met her blood related cousin.

"Cool, so Yang, you really shouldn't go that way, we should leave," the boy urged the lilac eyed girl. He had a bad feeling about the entire situation, the road led too far out, not long after he was sure they'd run into Grimm.

The girl however, ignored the boy, completely dedicated to her mission, whatever it had been.

The nameless child instead decided to try another route to pacify the girl, "Why are you so obsessed?"

The girl stopped for a moment, silent. But eventually turned to answer the boy with tears in her eyes, "I want to find my mom," she answered.

 _Why?_ The boy thought, completely missing the point of it all. He had wondered why his parents had abandoned him, why he never had the chance to live with them, but he always _hoped_ they were dead.

Because if they were alive, that didn't leave many happy options for him, either they didn't want him, or they had simply forgotten him.

Either way, it meant that he wasn't loved. Why would he ever bother looking for a parent that never loved him? The father was a sperm donor and the mother was simply the container that held him for nine months, but beyond that, they had done nothing for him.

So the boy followed the girl in silence, pondering her reasons for such an idiotic action. He simply couldn't understand why one would search for a person that had clearly abandoned them of their own free will.

The nameless child assumed that their situations were similar, simply because it was the most relatable conclusion. He didn't stop to wonder if maybe the girl's mother had gone for a while and would be back or maybe that she had died and the small blonde girl simply couldn't comprehend the concept.

It was an innocent assumption, but unknowingly, an accurate one.

The initiative of convincing the blonde girl to turn back had been completely forgotten by then, completely focused on the puzzle presented to him.

Until he heard a deep growl, and then another, and another. Until they became a symphony of deadly growls, a pack of them.

 _Beowolves,_ the boy thought calmly. He was a trained assassin, after two years of training and having his aura unlocked, Beowolves were basically small fry for him.

Although, there was also the problem of him being completely exhausted, from when Sevas had made an indentation of him in the ground, literally.

But that was also not a big deal.

All he had to do was leave the two girls for dead as bait, and make himself scarce using his stealth abilities.

They would die, so he wouldn't have to. His master had driven that lesson into his skull, the weak die, while the strong live.

The girl on the other hand was frozen in fear at the sight of those empty red eyes; she was weak, weaker than even he had been before he started training. The boy had stood up to a man far more terrifying than Grimm when he was only five years old; he was stronger, so he would live.

The logic was sound in his opinion, his master would agree.

He took a silent step back, and felt a tug on his necklace. It had to be his imagination of course; the necklace couldn't be caught in anything, but he looked down at it anyway. The only memento he had from his parents, he never even knew why he still kept it.

 _A memento,_ he thought with a sad smile as he came to a decision.

 _I don't know if you were good people, I don't know if you were courageous, I don't know if you were strong, and I don't know if you even loved me. But I'll sure as hell make sure you were useful for something!_ He spoke in his mind, a message to his parentage, his last act of good in _their_ name.

The boy ripped the necklace off his neck, took a deep breath in and threw it at the alpha Beowolf as he shouted, "Hey! Pick on someone your own size you overgrown mutt!"

Yang looked at the boy with eyes brimming in fear, she didn't know what to do, and all she wanted was to find her mother. She didn't want to die, she didn't want her sister to die, and she didn't want a boy she had just met die for something that was her fault either.

The nameless child ran, with whatever energy he could recover, he made sure the Beowolf pack followed him. He didn't know how long he would need to run, but he was sure that wherever he stopped, it would be his grave.

So the boy ran, and ran, and ran.

At some point he could have sworn he saw a man run past him from not too far away, completely ignoring the Beowolves on his tail… he was left for dead.

The boy chucked in understanding. It wasn't his master this time, but reality, the universe itself reinforcing the lesson that should have been beaten into him by now.

He was unnatural, helping others was unnatural, and his master had tried to beat it out of him because he was _unnatural_. A man had left him for dead, because helping others was not a natural action, people in this life were in it by themselves, and for themselves.

The flicker of hope that had sparked in the boy's eyes, vanished into the darkness, _devoured_ by the monster within.

He was sore all over, tired beyond reason, and barely ahead of certain death. No one could blame the boy for losing his concentration for a second, only to trip over a rock in his way…

It was too late to get back up, the momentary mistake had been enough, and the Beowolves were upon him. There was nothing he could do, but he could say with satisfaction, that he had repaid whatever he had owed that necklace and the ones who had given it to him.

The Beowolves however had a grudge to salvage; they surrounded the boy right before the first one _ripped_ into him. They clawed, and bit as they _toyed_ with him. The creatures of Grimm were in no rush, there was no other prey in the vicinity, so they played with the single one they had.

At first the boy _screamed_ in pain, feeling every bit of his flesh being removed off his bones. He felt the claws dig into him; he could almost _see_ the joy in the Grimm's empty eyes.

It was a terrible sound, the sound of a child in agony…

But then, the screaming stopped, instead there was laughter. The boy laughed at how wrong he was, at how screwed up his life had been. He roared in painful laughter at the insanity of it all, at the reality of it all.

He remembered the red haired girl in Mistral, how he had helped her, and was in turn rewarded with pain…

He remembered the orange haired girl in Kuroyuri, how he had helped her in a similar situation, and was in turn rewarded with a massacre, blood that wouldn't have spilled if it weren't for him…

He didn't even know if she had survived…

He remembered the blonde girl he met not long ago, how he had tried to convince her back to safety, tried to help her and the little girl in the wagon by antagonizing the Grimm.

He would be rewarded with death…

His master hadn't punished him out of cruelty he realized, but out of a place of knowledge and wisdom. Sevas must have known the consequences of his actions in the long run and tried to educate him, to spare him the agony he was feeling at that moment. Like a parent telling their child not to touch a hot stove, scolding them when they attempt to anyway in their ignorance.

 _No good deed goes unpunished…_

His spirit had died already, while the Kuroyuri incident had broken him beyond repair, this particular event had _unmade_ him entirely. Like cracks on a glass his soul shuddered under the strain.

The Grimm had had enough, the alpha Beowolf moved closer as it raised its clawed hand for the finishing blow.

 _I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, master…_

The nameless boy closed his eyes in resignation.

…Yet the blow never came.

"I don't know if you're lucky, or cursed," a familiar voice spoke in an almost _affectionate_ tone. "Come on kid, let's get you patched up."

 _Master,_ the boy thought, before he sank into unconsciousness.

* * *

Qrow left Taiyang home in a panicked state, Yang and Ruby had left, their only clue was a picture of an old cottage. Without other leads Qrow left in search of them.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid!_ Qrow berated the children in his mind. He knew of the Grimm activity around the parts they were heading to, and if he didn't make it in time, they would surely die a slow and painful death.

Qrow dashed to his destination with speed that could only come from an X-class Huntsman. He dashed through the forest looking for any sign, occasionally glancing at footprints.

Then he heard the sound of Grimm, they were chasing someone. Qrow quickly glanced to see a pack of Grimm chasing a young boy dressed in black, the boy was around Yang's age.

Qrow would have moved, he wanted to move and save the boy. He was a Huntsman, it was his duty to save those who couldn't save themselves, he had sworn.

But he also saw the direction they had come from, he knew his nieces had taken the same route, and if the Grimm had come from there, then it could only mean that Yang and Ruby would be in danger.

He was an uncle, before he was a Huntsman.

His decision made, he left the boy to his fate, promising to return after he assured the safety of his nieces.

Never could he have known that this simple, yet logical decision had doomed his son to become a monstrosity, a murderer that suffered no guilt, a cold blooded killer that would sooner plant a knife in someone, than ever give them the benefit of the doubt.

The Soul Reaver followed the tracks that were left behind, and found his nieces on their way back.

Relief… That was the emotion that had resounded through Qrow.

Qrow leapt next to Yang and Ruby as he picked the blonde girl and the sleeping red hooded girl into his arms.

"What were you thinking!?" He berated Yang mostly, as he couldn't really scold Ruby for sleeping.

But Yang didn't answer, she simply cried into the shoulders of the one who had brought comfort and safety to her. She didn't want anyone to get hurt; she simply wanted to find her mother.

It was an innocent wish. Yet it was damning in so many ways.

"A–a boy, w–was h–here," she sobbed into her uncle's shoulder, "H–he s–s–saved us!"

 _Shit!_ Qrow berated himself for getting lost in the moment; he quickly dashed to where he had seen the running boy.

"Yang, Uncle Qrow? What's going on?" the slowly waking Ruby asked.

"Keep your eyes on my shoulder, understood?" Qrow ordered them. Worst case scenario there would be only puddles of blood left of the boy, he didn't need such a sight to traumatize the children.

After only minutes of running back the trail, Qrow had made it to where he believed he had lost the boy.

He would never forget the scene he had seen that day.

Blood, it pooled around the area, but there were splatters of it all around the place.

He could see some very small pieces of flesh thrown around, but he assumed that the bigger pieces were in the belly of some Grimm.

Qrow felt a hole in his gut, he had condemned a kid to die, and he had placed a value on the kid's life, he determined it to be lower than the lives of his kin.

But he didn't regret it, because he knew, given the same choice, he would take the same course of action.

It didn't mean he had to like it…

Yang, the ever rebellious child, decided to take a peek, unknowingly, at the scene of gore. The one that existed thanks to her own foolishness.

She froze…

She simply couldn't comprehend; she had met the boy not too long ago. She had been so rude to him; she had dismissed his warnings in favor of searching for her mother.

 _She_ was the cause of his death…

She _wailed_ , she cried like she had never cried before in her life, or would ever cry in the future.

"Yang, focus on me!" Qrow told her as he walked away from the scene. At least Ruby had listened to him and kept her eyes solely on his shoulders.

"It's ok, it's all ok," he said as he rocked the disturbed Yang to pacify her.

Qrow simply kept walking, not long after Yang had fallen asleep after spending all her energy crying, Ruby had fallen asleep after a long bout of silence, noticing how her uncle simply didn't have it in him to speak.

They made it back home quite easily; Qrow set Ruby to bed first, and then Yang as he pacified Taiyang, assuring him that his two girls were completely fine.

Taiyang hadn't taken well to being pacified as he appropriated Qrow's personal alcohol stash, and instead spent the next few hours looking after his daughters' sleeping forms.

Qrow tucked Yang into her bed, and only then did he notice that she had held a strong grasp onto something.

The red-eyed man opened his blonde niece's palm, and noticed a necklace.

It took only moments for the information to stab him in the heart.

He had made that necklace, it was carved out of ebony wood, and it was his emblem with a crown enveloping it, the emblem of Glynda Goodwitch.

Qrow took the handmade necklace and walked out, completely ignoring Taiyang trying to talk to him about one thing or another.

 _He was alive… He was alive… He was alive… He was alive…_ Qrow repeated to himself as he walked out of the house. Qrow didn't know what to think, his boy was alive, and he had put him to death.

It was no surprise Glynda never wanted anything to do with him after the incident, she barely tolerated his existence.

In fact, she had seriously attempted to murder him when he had told her that he had, in a fit of sadness at the prospect of his sister's death, drunk enough alcohol that could possibly kill two adult men, and then _forgot_ their son in a bar.

She had never forgiven him, and she most likely never would unless their son had made a miraculous recovery from a case of death.

Both Qrow and Glynda hoped that at the very least, their boy could grow up safe and sound, far from battle and sorrow.

How would he tell her he was dead? The boy she affectionately called Aurora, because of the mismatched unique eyes he had.

While heterochromia iridium was rare, having both red and green eyes was a first as far as they knew, in fact as a baby sometimes they would slightly glow, giving the name more meaning.

The lack of pupils only made the slight glow more pronounced, which further cemented the name the loving mother had given him.

It didn't matter that it wasn't a particularly masculine name, she loved it. She loved him.

Qrow had never seen the strict teacher of Beacon that happy, the happiness in her green eyes when she held her child, it was unique, and it was priceless…

Would he tell her?

Would it not be better if she dreamed about how good her little Aurora's life could be, instead of remembering how horrid and painful his death must have been at the hands of Grimm?

Sadly, yes, he would tell her.

Because he knew, not only would she never forgive him for not telling her the fate of their son, but she also had just as much a right as him, to know what happened to her only heir.

The next day, the people of Patch would wake up and wonder; they would wonder where a quarter of their small forest had disappeared to, all of the trees cut down with clear cut precision.

* * *

Qrow walked into Beacon, his steps as dead as the day before, he hadn't even touched his flask of alcohol.

The famed Soul Reaver walked into an elevator and waited for Ozpin's floor, the unlucky Huntsman was more than sure that he would find the stern Huntress there.

The ride up had given him too much time, enough of it for the dark thoughts to consume him.

He still couldn't believe it, he had been so close, so close to his son. Maybe if he had spared a little time to save the boy…

But he understood, there was no guarantee that Yang and Ruby would still be safe by the time he had saved the boy, let alone how much the boy would have slowed him down after he had saved him. Leaving the boy there after killing the Grimm wouldn't have made any sense, only for other Grimm to kill him when he left for his nieces.

But the main reason still stood… He simply hadn't known.

The elevator stopped, the usual 'ding' sound came to the Huntsman's ears as the doors opened. Qrow walked in slowly, he saw both Ozpin and Glynda talking, and it was an interaction that had immediately ceased when they saw the state Qrow was in.

To summarize, he looked like shit. He had dark circles under his eyes, he slouched, and his mood indicated an upcoming apocalypse.

They had seen the man drunk beyond belief, and even then it was a somber feeling, one where they knew something was wrong, but one where they also knew that it would get better.

That Qrow wasn't there, this one didn't believe in a better tomorrow.

The depressed man's eyes locked with the only blonde in the room, and spoke, without any preparation, without beating around the bush, he told her.

"He died."

Time came to a stop for the blonde beauty of Beacon, her ever present grip on her weapon slackened as it fell.

She simply froze, her mind raced, reaching for countless possibilities and explanations.

She noticed how Qrow looked, she had never seen him like that before, not when they heard of Raven's disappearance, not when he had _forgotten_ their child, and not even when they had gotten news of Summer's death.

Two words, Qrow had spoken two words, and it seemed to take her forever to comprehend them.

Something within her knew the answer, but she vehemently beat it down, the larger part of her completely rejecting the possibility.

Instead, she reached for other solutions, futile hopes…

She never noticed falling to her knees, she hadn't noticed the tears flowing down her cheeks, nor had she noticed the blood flowing from her palms as her nails dug deeper into flesh.

She heard a deafening scream resonate through the walls of Beacon.

 _Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!_ She repeated to herself, in hopes of silencing the deafening noise. It sounded so full of grief, like the wail of a banshee that predicted the death of her own kin.

She hadn't noticed, or maybe she didn't want to notice.

It was her screaming all along…

Ozpin simply watched, the headmaster of Beacon had understood Qrow's words instantly. But there was absolutely nothing he could do, and so he let his longtime friend vent, to vent all she could.

Love turned to grief, grief turned to anger, anger turned to rage, and rage…

Rage turned to _hatred._

For a short time, Glynda ceased to be. In her stead, stood one of the few S-class Huntresses to ever attain a title.

While every X-class fighter had a title without exception, only those who stood out in the S-class had ever gained the privilege of being known by one.

The emerald eyed professor stood, with her weapon back in her grasp. A single look of pure hatred spared for the unfortunate man that brought her the news.

" _You,_ " she hissed at the red eyed man.

There stood, the Witch of Eternity.

Qrow had already been out of it, and so he noticed far too late when a force had slammed him into the wall.

The Witch of Eternity didn't spare a single moment; nothing had gone right after that single year of happiness she had spent with her son, she would make someone, anyone at all, _pay for it all._

The gears in Ozpin's office detached themselves as they were hurled into the Soul Reaver by the blonde witch.

Ozpin could practically feel the Qrow's bones screaming, threatening to break.

But it was not over, not even close.

The windows shattered, the table flew. Bolted or not, everything was thrown into the defenseless Huntsman.

Defenseless, because not only had he been in a moment of weakness, but he felt it was all deserved, and while he knew Glynda was no cold blooded killer, he wouldn't blame her if she had crippled him for life.

It didn't stop, nothing stopped, when the Witch of Eternity had run out of things to hurl, she broke apart the room for more ammunition. When there was barely enough left to stand on, she threw bolts of energy to further damage the already broken Huntsman.

There was no smile on her face; she didn't enjoy what she did. But there was no rage either; she had long since shut down, _broken_ , and so she continued.

She continued until she finally couldn't, and simply fainted due to exhaustion and emotional overload.

All the while Ozpin had only watched, he called for the infirmary to make their way up and take care of his two most loyal friends.

Truthfully, he wanted to stop them, he truly did. But he also understood that it was a family situation, one where he had no business putting himself in the middle of.

"May you rest in peace," Ozpin said to no one around. The headmaster simply wished for a peaceful road to the afterlife for the departed soul.

For three months no one had seen even a sign of the ever present stern professor. It was no wonder; after all, she had spent that time in the confines of her home, mourning.

* * *

Three years of training after the incident in Patch, the nameless child had become a weapon on par with graduates from Beacon, most likely even better.

Sevas had called in many favors to bring the boy back to tip-top condition; thankfully the boy hadn't lost any limbs or organs, mostly superficial damage. The boy had too many scars to count, claw marks reaching from collar bone to waist, bite marks on his shoulders and thighs.

Really, there were barely any places spared of damage, the boys hands and feet were spared, apparently the Grimm had focused on the larger parts of the human body. The bulk of it focused on his back and torso, less on his thighs, shoulders, and biceps.

But the boy lived, and something good had come out of the entire debacle, at least in Sevas' opinion.

The boy's eyes looked like death, like a bottomless abyss, they looked like the monstrosity he had seen inside the boy all those years ago.

"Today is the day boy," Sevas started. "Now listen to me well, because this might take a little while."

The boy instantly perked up and gave his master all of his attention. An action that did not go unnoticed by the elder assassin, it always made him happy to see his apprentice so obedient.

"Today I will be dropping you off somewhere around the badlands, the place is filled with Grimm and warrior clans that span from C-class strength all the way to A-class, sometimes even S-class, but that's incredibly rare. We won't meet again for a long time, but when you're of age, I will find you, and we will have some fun.

"You're only ten years old now, so you might want to speak the language to yourself out loud since you'll most likely be out of human contact for a while, but no matter, you'll become stronger than ever. However there are two things I want to tell you before I send you off.

"One, and remember this, is to feel the nature, try to understand its profound mysteries. You don't understand now, but let me give you an example. Human beings are part of nature, souls even more so, and with such connection, you can use the things around you, the wind, the earth itself even, to your advantage. You'll understand eventually, if anything it'll help you connect with your semblance more.

"The last thing is something I want to give you, a name. From now on, your name will be Syn, short for Synthril, grow strong, and find me," he finished as he gave the kid a pat on the head.

Before the boy could even make a sound of protest at being shipped away so suddenly, or show the man the gratitude he felt at being given a name after such a long time spending without one.

He lost consciousness.

And so started the story of Synthril…

* * *

 **Author Note:** **YEA! I gotta say, I'm really proud of this chapter. I'm a pretty rookie writer so I have a right to be!**

 **Finally the boy has a name! I know his name isn't connected to a color, but neither is Sevas. And no, it's not because I was too lazy to find a color related name, it's mainly because as an assassin Sevas simply doesn't care for the expression of individuality/creativity that the end of the war brought about and thus the naming of colors.**

 **I'll answer any questions you may have through PM or if you're reviewing as a guest, in the next chapter (whenever that may be).**

 **Short explanation: Alright so I realize that making Ruby sleep through that entire ordeal was a bit far-fetched, and it's not because I forgot her or anything. I simply didn't want to put that kind of trauma on her conscious, in my opinion it would have affected her character too much, and I like her as is. I also know that Syn probably shouldn't have cared about Yang too much after Kuroyuri, but I think that's subjective. It was a matter of experience, in Kuroyuri and the case of Pyrrha he blamed Sevas and his powerlessness. Here Syn came to a realization that's not going to be fixed either ever or for a long time at least.**


	4. Chapter 4 - Self

**Authors note: Phew, this was a close deadline xD Hope you enjoy.**

* * *

The sound of chains, it was all she heard for the longest of times. Every step she took they rattled. Every motion she made with her hands, they made themselves known, reminding her of her inability. Even the sun up in the sky seemed to mock her helplessness, shining right into her eyes.

"Keep walking."

The badlands were ruled by a different set of laws than those of the kingdoms, that is to say, none at all. While it was true that some would choose to venture out of the kingdoms to travel and maybe even form a community, a village out from beyond the safety of the walls, they generally didn't last long.

Not only because of the Grimm, but also because without laws, people and their baser desires became uncontrollable. To kill, to steal, to take, to enslave… all of that and more became the right of the strong.

The right of those who could survive…

"Wait here."

She stopped without a sound of protest, she always did. No longer was she the rebellious one who fought at every chance, her fire was snuffed out along with what she used to value most.

The guards spread out, all of them wearing armor of some sort; after all unlike Huntsmen and Huntresses they didn't have the benefit of an unlocked aura.

It was an open field, a wooden platform elevated at the forefront for the benefit of the audience, chairs for them to make themselves comfortable in, and a microphone placed on said platform for the benefit of the speaker.

Not even five minutes after all of the seats were filled, about two dozen of them, a man walked toward the middle of the platform and stopped in front of the microphone. He was rather average in build, and the only thing that stuck out was the scar that went over his right eye beneath a few locks of gold hair.

"Welcome! My name is Maz, and today I have invited those of you interested for a great opportunity! Recently we have had a great stroke of luck in our… business." A few chuckled at the remark, some rolled their eyes, but mostly they sat with anticipation filling every corner of their eyes.

The girl thought they were sick, absolutely disgusting to even be participating in this, but she also realized that the situation was out of her hands.

"But I'm sure you're not interested in the details, so without further ado, let's get this auction started!" And so the guard responsible pushed forward the chained man in front of her. She was second in line, with only two other girls older than her waiting behind her.

Maz quickly introduced in an effort to save time, "Now this one is a fine specimen! Tall, dark and handsome, he is sure to be a hit with the ladies. With all the muscle this one's packing–"

His tirade was quickly silenced by the sound of the shackled man choking on his own blood. It wasn't rare of course, every once in a while there'd always be that one person who would much rather die on his own terms than give up their freedom completely.

The shackled girl at the back saw it clearly, and truthfully she felt a modicum of respect for the fallen one, at least he decided how he would live and die on his own terms. Could she say the same?

 _No,_ she shook her head at the thought. She respected him _because_ she wouldn't be able to do the same, she was simply too afraid of dying, she had everything taken away from her, but her desire to live was built on a foundation made of an iron will. She'd do anything, _anything_ at all, to survive.

Yet her respect for the man was not shared, definitely not by those watching. Like Hyenas they laughed at the dying man, they laughed without restraint, as if he were choking for their entertainment.

The laughter only stopped when the light in his eyes forever disappeared, and even then there were a few snickers here and there. Two of the guards quickly came up and took the body off the stage, most likely to simply throw it carelessly somewhere further where Grimm would later make a meal of the dead man.

"Well, before I was so rudely interrupted, I was going to say that you could most likely grind meat on it… not anymore I suppose," Maz continued as if a joke of his was derailed. Which in his and their opinion, it most likely seemed exactly that way.

Maz motioned the guard next to her, and just like before the guard pushed her forward into the spotlight. She didn't resist, it would be futile, so instead she shuffled forward until she came to a stop next to Maz.

Maz nodded with approval, obviously very pleased with her obedience. After a short acknowledgement he turned back to his audience, "This next one is definitely one of our best! While she may be small, she's only thirteen years old so there is a lot of growing left in her. She's flexible as all hell, but don't take my word for it."

Maz gestured toward her, silently ordering her to demonstrate. She knew the repercussions for disobedience, but… there was a problem. She moved her right foot as a response, the rattling of the chains clearing up the reason for her delay.

Maz frowned momentarily before understanding dawned on his face, he gestured for the guard to take off the shackles on her ankles. The guard quickly made his way toward her without delay; the ones captured weren't the only ones who knew the price of failure after all.

As soon as the chains clattered on the floorboards, not a second later, she slowly raised her right leg all the way up to her head easily while keeping it straight.

Satisfied, Maz continued, "Not only is she flexible, but she's also the most exotic girl to have ever been sold in this auction! Her hair is naturally pink and brown; on top of that she has _enchanting_ eyes." Just as he mentioned her eyes he tilted her chin upward to give the audience a better view of them.

Heterochromia Iridum, her right eye was a warm brown and her left bright pink. Exotic didn't even begin to describe her; all in all, she was a rare one of a kind sort of deal.

"We'll start bidding at a hundred and twenty thousand Lien!"

Not a moment after Maz gave the go ahead, the audience clamored with offers, each one more than the previous.

The multi-colored girl felt smaller and more worthless with each offer. She didn't feel human anymore, she didn't feel free. She had become a possession, one that would be bartered for and won.

Yet through all of it she knew. Had she been faster, stronger, _better_ … It would have been them who would be feeling as she did. It was a difference in power that decreed her fate, the heroes in the fairy tales her mother used to read to her about weren't there when she bled to death right in front of her. The heroes her father talked about, the huntsman and huntresses weren't there when he screamed in desperation as they humiliated his wife's corpse.

Where were the heroes of old when she begged for her mother's life? Where were the protectors of the light when she pleaded for her father's?

Where were the guardians who'd protect her when they lashed her for disobedience?

Where were they when her captors took away her last glimmer of hope?

And so with a blank stare she gazed at the audience and saw many different people, male and female, Faunus and humans alike. Some displayed their riches more blatantly by wearing gold accessories in excess, while others simply dressed in expensive suits and dresses.

Only then did she notice a boy dressed in grey and black that looked completely out of place, walking toward the direction of the guards at the back. A boy that was most likely her age, black hair that reached his shoulders and framed in such a way that his right eye was hidden, leaving only a singular green eye for the world to see.

The guards stopped him, his mouth moved but she couldn't make out what he was saying over the bidding war and the distance between them. She saw a slight smile cross over the boy's face, and the rest was a blur.

She'd most likely never forget the coming series of events in her lifetime.

Faster than her eyes could follow, with daggers that appeared out of nowhere, the boy had slit the throats of two guards. Even as the rest of them tried to comprehend the idea of how a thirteen year old could kill two of their security personnel the boy didn't stop and instead took advantage of the confusion.

With feats of incredible flexibility and speed the boy dashed through them as he eviscerated some, decapitated others, or simply stuck a dagger in an organ they would very much miss. Their numbers meant _nothing;_ the boy would place his hands on a guard's head as he used them to propel himself upwards and spin their head in a full revolution as he left them for dead.

As the last guard fell so did the voices that kept bidding for her life, obviously taken in by the commotion that went on behind them. Soon their interests turned to apprehension, and then, fear.

While at first they had believed the boy would be dealt with, each body slowly changed their opinion until there were none left.

Chaos, it was the only way the girl could properly define what happened as realization dawned on the attendants of the auction. The first scream was the trigger, no one knew who the source was, but the act drove them to run for their lives.

The fact that two dozen people tried to spread out and run away seemed almost amusing to the boy, or maybe it was confusion. The girl didn't know how to interpret the cocked eyebrow he was sporting.

Yet the commotion was for naught, running was futile, and survival was but a dream.

She saw him move, yet the word did him no justice. It was almost as elegant and as powerful as a jaguar getting ready for a hunt, his legs tensed and he lunged into the fray. The guards had posed no threat to him, it was no wonder that he plowed through the civilians without any visible effort.

He'd snap a neck and simultaneously cave someone's chest in with a kick. Anyone that got too far he'd take care of with a flick of his wrist. Knives punctured through a skull did wonders in stopping those who ran.

Not even half a minute and the ground was soaked with the blood of all the attending. Only Maz, herself and the two other slave girls stood alive. All of them enraptured in the scene of death and gore, efficient as can be.

Maz didn't even get his wits about him enough for the idea of escape to present itself before a dagger made it home right in between his eyes. No grand declarations of justice were made, no speech of right and wrong, it was all simple and efficient death.

 _Hero,_ the thought ran through her head as Maz' body hit the exact spot the slave who choked on his blood had died. After so long, after all her prayers and all her pleading, someone who would save her had appeared.

Then the boy started going through the pockets of the dead, he took their lien and plundered their valuables. He didn't spare her or the other two girls in rags a moment of attention, simply focusing on his bounty.

The two behind her seemed to have understood something and made a run for it, deep into the woods and hopefully to freedom.

It took her longer, much longer to come to the same conclusion. When the boy made his way to the final body, Maz' body that lay at her feet, did she understand.

The boy wasn't there to help; he wasn't there to free them. He was only there for himself. It was only fitting of course, the monsters that took everything from her, had everything taken from them by an even bigger monster.

With every step the boy took toward Maz, the closer he came, the more fear she felt. His singular eye looked so cold, dead. The fact that she couldn't see a pupil only served to terrify her more; there wasn't anything human in that glowing eye.

Yet she didn't run, she was smarter than that. The other two ran in chains into a forest with hopes of a better tomorrow, they'd get their wish. Tomorrow would most likely be a better day for the fortunate Grimm that would fill its belly with their flesh.

The boy finished looting Maz, having filled a sack he picked up from one of the corpses, and without preamble made his way back to where he came from. Her choices were limited, her wrists were still in chains, and there was no way she'd be able to survive alone.

She followed him.

* * *

Syn had been living on his own for three years out in the badlands. He had to fight Grimm almost every day, and the rare days he didn't see the red eyed beasts he had to deal with bandits of some sort.

His master had been right, as usual, the bandits out in the badlands weren't of high quality. They survived by plundering the weak, avoiding the stronger Grimm, and keeping their heads down when a stronger force presented itself.

More recently Syn had acquired intelligence about a black market auction that would be attended by the richest and most degenerate. For Syn, it meant a great deal of Lien he could use to further sustain himself in the years to come. The slaves of the auction meant nothing to him, he had learned his lessons, repeated them daily.

 _Being weak is a sin._ One of the many lessons he would repeat on a daily basis, making sure he would never forget a lesson imparted. His strength allowed him to slaughter his targets, his ability gave him riches, and his power let him walk away without a scratch.

He knew full well the slaves would run away, he also knew that they would inevitably die or be re-captured by other bandits and condemned to a fate worse than death. It didn't matter to him, their weakness was their own fault and he wouldn't damn himself by trying to help them.

So imagine his surprise when the multi-colored girl started following him as he left. While many would deem the decision a logical one, to stay close to a person that could fight and kill with ease in the wild, it was also rather baffling.

Syn had killed dozens in front of her, plundered their corpses and didn't even pay her the slightest bit of attention. By all counts he should have been a dangerous choice to go with, the only reason she or the other two had been left alive was because none of them had anything worth taking. Following him was like flipping a coin on her life.

However, surprised or not, Syn didn't turn around to confirm what he already knew, neither did he slow down for her sake. He couldn't care less if she followed him, after all, sooner or later she'd be too tired to follow him.

He picked up his pace, if she was going to get tired and fall behind, he may as well expedite the process. While he didn't care enough to leave her in the dust, if she was going to fall behind eventually anyway because of her own weakness, he didn't mind getting to that result a bit faster.

* * *

The girl was relieved; she had half considered the idea that the boy may have become annoyed by her following him, and simply killed her because of it. Instead he didn't seem to care, he hadn't turned around despite her being sure of him being aware of her presence, and simply kept walking. She kept up with him just fine, thanks to the lack of chains around her ankles.

That was until he picked up his pace…

The sudden change of pace startled her; the thought that he might be trying to get rid of her had crossed her mind. But the new pace he set was hardly the peak of his abilities, she had seen him almost blur through the guards, the pace he had set was only slightly faster than a light jog.

She followed.

The boy jogged into the forest, multitudes of different obstacles in his way. He jumped over fallen trees, avoided the larger rocks in his way by swerving around them, all of this as he carried a sack full of Lien and valuables.

They jogged for two hours without breaking pace and even then she couldn't see the end of the forest.

But she followed still.

Through the entire jog he never gasped for breath, didn't breathe heavy at all, and didn't even break a sweat. She understood by the lack of effort he put forth that he wasn't trying to lose her; he simply didn't care if she caught up or not.

She on the other hand wasn't quite so well trained. Her breathing had become heavy, her sweat had drenched the rags she was dressed in, and the shackles on her wrists seemed to weigh ten times as much as what she used to remember.

The boy jumped over a ravine and while the ravine wasn't large by any means, she wasn't sure her exhausted state would be able to make the jump.

And yet without hesitation she jumped anyway.

She failed…

Only by a stroke of luck did she grasp the edge. Yet it was only a matter of time, she was too exhausted, her muscles cried out in protest, even her mind had been on the brink of exhaustion. Try as she could she could only manage to bring her head up and get a firm hold, even then it was temporary, her strength left her rapidly.

She looked toward the boy, who had strangely stopped and watched her with a curious gaze, yet had made no move to help her. She opened her mouth to form the words, to plead as she had before, yet no sound left her lips.

Was this all she'd amount to? Begging, pleading, always beholden to the whims of others? The boy in front of her was as old as her, yet he made his fate, had the strength to choose his destiny. Why should she be fated to crawl on the ground, always looking for scraps?

She wouldn't.

With the last of her strength she pulled up, her feet dug into the side and supported her body.

She'd never be reduced to that whimpering girl again.

The jagged rocks dug into her flesh, releasing her blood to the atmosphere.

She wouldn't be under the mercy of another again.

Slowly her upper body rose above the cliff.

She wouldn't be sneered at with contempt, would no longer be less than human ever again.

Though trickles of blood from shallow wounds covered her hands and feet, she made it up just barely. An almost demented smile graced her face as she swore to live a life that was her own.

She'd become stronger, they would whimper under her strength. She'd become faster, they would know what it was like to be under her mercy. She would become better, she would become the one who sneered at them, and she would become the one who stood beyond them.

She took deep breaths, trying her best to regulate her breathing and ignore the pain spreading throughout her body.

Until she heard the boy take a step further away. Her head snapped up to his location, and she could see he was slowly leaving, as if he had already seen all he wanted to.

Despite her body telling her otherwise, screaming at her in protest, she got back on her feet and followed. Maybe it was because of the side-effect of her muddled thoughts, but she could have sworn the boy set a slower pace than before. Yet her mind couldn't allocate the thought process necessary to think further on the subject and instead focused on moving her body.

Every step she took felt like her body trying to kill her, she could have sworn up and down high heaven that her lungs were dead set on the idea of her death. Yet she fought through it all, the bleeding cuts on her feet hurt more with every step, the chains on her wrists getting heavier and heavier. Even her eye lids nearly closed, all of her efforts dedicated to keeping up with what she assumed to be her only chance at survival.

Time escaped her, seconds, minutes, hours; it was all the same in her state of mind. Darkness fell upon remnant and the boy stopped. The boy finally stopping was like a signal for her body, and just like that she dropped on the ground.

She could have sworn she heard her mother speak, but it wasn't possible, she'd never hear her voice again.

 _Sweet dreams, dear._

* * *

Syn was sure, so sure the girl would have either given up or collapsed long before they hit the first hour mark. Sure generally people could jog for an hour if they were even slightly fit, but the same couldn't be said for the girl. Not only was she young, but she was also malnourished, obviously her previous owners weren't exactly keen on keeping her healthy.

Yet every turn he made she made as well. Every jump he performed with ease, she barely could but did nonetheless. He could hear her labored breaths and though he never looked back, he knew she was drenched in sweat, knew by sound alone how far beyond her limits she had already went.

Then he had jumped over the ravine, and he knew that was it. She wouldn't have the courage to jump, not with how exhausted she was. So when he heard the telltale sound of rattling chains, he just _had_ to turn around and see for himself.

She jumped, she didn't hesitate, didn't think twice. Yet will power didn't always yield results, not when your own strength wasn't up to par. So she fell.

Despite himself mild disappointment crept up on him, her determination had reminded him of his own and while that didn't mean he cared it was interesting nonetheless, but in the end it hadn't mattered. Syn turned around to leave, the death of the girl didn't concern him, it would have happened eventually anyway.

Yet the sound of chains persisted.

Syn turned in surprise, his lone green eye glowing with curiosity. The girl was still trying, despite all odds against her she strived to survive.

He waited…

She slowly pulled herself up, finally getting her head above the cliff. He saw her attempt to say something, ask for help? She wouldn't get any from him, survival was the right of the strong, and she would either make it or die and return to nothingness.

Her lips thinned into a line as she frowned, her eyes gaining a slight glow of determination to it. With newfound determination she crawled further, he watched as her hands bled on the sharper rocks, yet without flinching she made her way up.

He admired her determination for a handful of moments until he decided that this was as far as she could go. Syn turned and jogged.

The sound of chains followed still…

A miniscule smile graced his features as he kept his pace.

They ran, ran for a long time and the further they got, the more Syn was impressed by her. The sound of chains followed him the entire way, and though she had never noticed he slayed a dozen Beowolves that had situated themselves right in their way, he had cleaved through them without a moment's pause.

Eventually Syn stopped, and just as he did he heard the sound of a body hitting the floor.

"About time," he muttered under his breath.

They had made it back to his camp; he quickly set to starting a fire and setting the traps around it. It was quick work done under fifteen minutes, all of it basically a habit.

He had been out in the badlands for three years, setting up camp and trapping it was common sense. He always moved his camp, taking everything of value and going forward. He never had a destination, always looking out for the next fight, the next meal, and the next kill.

While usually fire at nightfall was a stupid idea because it would give a person's location away, Syn was confident enough in his abilities to take the risk in exchange for comfort.

He put some of the meat he had caught previously in the day over the fire to cook and went to training.

"Weakness is a sin," he recited like a mantra.

He had already warmed up on his way back to camp, so Syn started with his strength exercises. Doing pull ups on tree branches, balanced handstand push-ups, and other calisthenics.

Then he moved on to training with weapons, his body working on autopilot as his mind wandered. Three years he had been out in the badlands, three years without a goal or focus in mind, always living for the next day.

He _was_ getting stronger, but at a much slower rate. All the Grimm were weaklings, and truthfully they seemed particularly susceptible to his aura, anything covered in it would simply cleave through them like hot knife through butter. Bandits were simply below him, all they were good for was to clean the rust off his skills and an income to keep him fed whenever he visited a village.

He stopped shortly to plant the pieces of meat on the sticks and then into the ground away from the fire, having already been cooked to a sufficient degree. Five sticks of kebab planted, the scent instantly reminded him of his hunger.

Before he could even get started on the first one, he saw the girl twitch. He cocked a brow at that; he assumed she'd be too tired to wake so soon, yet apparently an empty stomach trumped tired body.

He watched her slowly wake, her eyes fluttered as she looked around, taking in her surroundings. Eventually her mismatched orbs laid to rest on him, or more specifically the meat he was holding.

Four other sticks of meat were placed in front of him; he wasn't going to offer her one. However if she had the courage to take one or two then he wouldn't stop her, because in this world you took what you wanted.

He could see her contemplating it. The hunger in her eyes was obvious to him, yet the fear of dying seemed to be almost equal to her hunger. She couldn't quite decide if taking food would result in her premature death.

He didn't care, and simply kept eating.

He finished his first portion, threw the stick and reached for the second one.

She kept watching him eat, her stomach growled at her, as if it were scolding her stupidity. Syn knew it was stupidity of course, because the choices were obvious. Either she had the courage to eat now and _risk_ death, or she would go hungry tomorrow and _definitely_ succumb to her exhaustion, which would lead to death. The equation was a simple one in his eyes.

As he finished his second stick he reached for the third one, and finally it seemed as if the girl had made up her mind.

* * *

She was exhausted, and hungry.

So, so hungry…

She could only watch as he reached for the second stick of meat, her stomach growled in protest. But what could she do? Try and steal from the one person that could free her head from her shoulders before she even knew it?

She watched him take slow, deliberate bites. Either he was mocking her, or he simply didn't care, she couldn't really tell with him. She needed to eat to survive, she knew that. If her previous experiences had been any indication, she'd need all her strength if she wanted to survive the next day.

But would there even be a next day if she tried to take his food?

The boy finished his second portion and reached for the third. She watched as he took the third stick of meat and couldn't handle it anymore. If she waited any longer she'd definitely starve, and who knew? Maybe the boy would let her finish her meal before he decided to murder her in cold blood.

At least she'd die with a satisfied stomach… That sounded like a better way to go than most.

The girl took slow and deliberate steps toward the fourth stick.

Yet on the third step the boy's lone green eye snapped in attention, locking his gaze on her. She froze.

There wasn't any ill intent, if anything the boy's gaze seemed curious. But after seeing him cut down men and women in the double digits, his attention alone frightened her.

But she steeled her resolve; he'd either kill her, or not care. Either way, she needed to eat, the end result wouldn't change. She took a final step forward and stretched a shaky arm toward the fourth portion, all the while the dark haired boy watched her closely.

When it was in her grasp, she pulled the stick of food close to her at speeds her body shouldn't have been capable of in her state. Then again, hunger did lead to some desperate attempts.

She looked at the stick of meat in her hand and bit her lip.

Would it be enough? She'd need all her strength tomorrow, one more portion and she'd be satisfied. Already she had taken a step forward before the idea even took root in her mind, her body knowing what was best for her.

Her eyes locked with the boy's, and what she saw in his lone eye burned her cheeks.

 _He's amused!?_ She wasn't in danger of dying, she understood that now, he wasn't going to kill her unless it benefitted him in some way. She had nothing of value so killing her would be more of a chore than anything else.

She huffed in indignation as her fears were abated. The girl took the last portion and sat down to eat in peace. Though eating would have been an exaggeration, at the speed she was consuming the food, inhaled it would have been a better explanation.

Just as she finished her meal, her fear long forgotten in the presence of the boy around her age, she made a mistake.

She extended her arms at him as she stretched them to extend the chains connecting them. Silently asking him to cut the chains and free her.

Just like that, all of the amusement in his eyes vanished. His eyes hardened like ice, suddenly they were colder than she had ever seen them, even when he had killed over two dozen people his eyes had reflected nothing.

Instantly she pulled her arms back, silently apologizing as her head nodded in his direction. She wouldn't beg and plead again, survival was necessary, but she had made an oath. She would never become that whimpering girl again.

Instead of waiting for a response she nestled closer to the campfire and let her dreams take her away to a time of happier memories.

* * *

Syn watched her take her food with such caution it nearly made him chuckle. If he had wanted her dead he would have slit her throat long before she had ever made it to the camp.

He ate and finished his food just in time to watch her finish _inhaling_ hers. He couldn't really blame her; hunger was one enemy no one could win against.

Then she extended her arms, a silent request to cut the chains. Just like that his memories of the blonde haired girl came rushing back, the Beowolves, the running, the abandonment. His scars burned as a reminder of his mistakes. His master's words ringing clearly in his head as if he were next to him.

 _Being weak is a sin. Being weak prevents you from deciding your own fate. Being weak allows you to be trampled upon. Doing what one likes is the right of the powerful!_

Survival of the fittest, he learned the hard way that helping others was unnatural; everyone was in it by themselves.

Though maybe he had taken it too literally…

Sevas had acquaintances; he helped others when he owed them a favor. Quid pro quo, it made sense. Benefit, everyone looked out for their self-interest no matter shape or form.

Sevas had taught him many things over the years, the necessity of not creating bonds being one of them. Yet what did that mean?

He had been so deep in thought that he never even noticed the girl going to sleep, never noticed his change of expression or mood.

Hadn't his master created a bond with him, one of master and apprentice? Did that mean that it was also the right of the powerful to choose their rules?

Was it the right of the powerful to be able to choose their reality without consequence?

Most likely, he concluded.

 _Freedom isn't the highest good. Power is. For without power, your freedom can be taken._ He remembered, he remembered very well.

He needed to get stronger, stronger still.

Synthril meditated in an effort to get his thoughts in order. Memories of Sevas' lessons kept rushing at him, as he tried to make sense of his life.

Soon all sound ceased, no wind, no rustle of the leaves, nothing.

What was his goal in life?

Power…

Then what?

 _ **More…**_

Syn realized something was wrong. His eyes opened slowly as he broke off his meditation, and was welcomed to a world of black.

The sky was black, yet also not empty. Dozens upon dozens of starts lit the night sky almost reaching the triple digits, yet none of them had a radiance that reached the black sea he stood on. Three of the stars however were peculiar… colored. A dark grey star shined as if made of shadows, another star shone silver rather than white, and the last one burned a darker green.

With a start Syn realized where he was, an inner world, _his_ inner world. Sevas had mentioned them before, but he had also mentioned that only very experienced aura users ever got to enter their own, or even have one in general.

The stars, they were representation of aura… no, souls. All the people he had killed, Sevas had made it clear that he had the ability to absorb semblances, which really meant that he devoured their soul. Because semblances were unique, they were the expression of one's own soul.

Taking his attention away from the stars Syn focused on the body of water below him. The sea went on endlessly, though why it was black in color was beyond him.

He scooped up some of the water as he bent down and realized that yes, it truly was black.

Dropping that thought pattern, Syn walked aimlessly in hopes of finding something that would enlighten him further. It wasn't every day that a thirteen year old could enter their inner world.

He could only take three steps forward before he saw them, as if they had always been there, right in front of him around three meters ahead.

There were six flames floating above the black sea, yet he instinctively knew they weren't a representation of power, semblance or souls.

The red flame felt unyielding, powerful and destructive.

The blue flame felt depressing and powerless.

The yellow flame felt calm and energetic at the same time.

The grey flame reminded him of the first time Sevas had let him experience killing intent. It wasn't a pleasant memory by any definition.

The black flame flickered consistently as if containment was against its nature, it felt… wrong.

Lastly he saw the Violet flame, one that burned consistently unlike the black one and felt, cold.

Just as he went in to touch a flame, the water behind him moved, it was slight, as if something were emerging from it very slowly.

Syn stopped his action toward the flame, and instead turned his head back very slowly.

"_▄▄▄████"

The roar of the beast snapped him awake from meditation, the memory of the ridiculously sized snake being just that, a memory. The fire crackled in a comforting reminder, yet oddly enough he wasn't afraid from the experience at all.

Something kept telling him that it would be ludicrous to be afraid of the beast.

After all, who would be afraid of themselves?

* * *

 **Authors note: Again, hope you liked it. I also wanted to clarify something. So when I change perspectives, understand that said perspectives will most likely be biased. For example when Neo (if you didn't guess that yet I'ma smack you, you deserve all the smacks!) absently thought that Syn had slowed down slightly, yet in Syn's perspective he kept up his pace. In that case Syn was being biased, he did slow down, just not because of a conscious decision.**

 **Hope you liked it, next chapter will come when it comes... hopefully next week.**


	5. Chapter 5 - Bonds

**Author Note: Alright, yeah kinda later than my usual, but in all fairness I didn't actually ever set a deadline or anything xD This chapter is kind of awkward because I needed to wrap up a lot of things and get on with the story. Don't worry, there will be flashbacks, and mentions of what might have happened to inform the readers.**

* * *

An entire year…

For an entire year the girl had followed him.

He was impressed. He had picked up his pace, crossed hurdles that would have left lesser men cowering in fear. Yet she always kept up, when she fell she stood back up, when she bled she patched it up, and when faced with almost certain death, she embraced the odds.

She reminded him of himself. Whenever Sevas trained him into the ground, he'd get back up just the same. When stainless steel embedded itself into his flesh, he'd rip it out and continue onward.

She had managed to break her shackles only two weeks after meeting him, successfully shattering the chains with a spare dagger he had left around his camp. She learned to hunt her own food only a month after that.

It took time, but eventually she learned how to walk, run, and be silent like Syn. And while she wasn't anywhere close to his level, she was passable enough to get by just fine in the badlands.

The night then was a night like any other, the weather was calm and almost relaxing, the moon still shattered and hanging in the sky with the stars adorning the background. He had been hunting for food, the ever present girl followed Syn without stop. Any bandits in their way were met with a swift end.

Syn had been slightly surprised to see that the girl wasn't a complete amateur when it came to fighting. And by that he meant that she could hold her own against bandits at the very least, and Grimm at worst.

Though looking back at all the opponents she left alive, obviously she didn't have his killer instinct… yet.

Syn focused on his surroundings, doing his best to find tracks that could lead him to food. He did find tracks, but it wasn't what he was looking for. Looking at the ground he could see footprints, humanoid ones.

If he couldn't find animals to eat, he'd simply steal from the poor idiot that couldn't cover their tracks. Grimm made finding wild animals a harder task than necessary anyway.

Following the tracks he and the girl quickly moved, and found a human camp not too far away. Syn motioned for the girl to wait, and having met with such situations before, she listened.

Syn swiftly made his way toward the camp, his breathing controlled, muscles at the ready, and eyes focused. He had become one with the shadows, the light in his eyes quickly squashed at the prospect of an upcoming slaughter.

He took to higher ground by jumping from tree to tree; no one ever expected an attack from above after all.

Yet when he made it there, confusion had begun to spread in his mind. Rather than the group he expected, there was only one woman at the camp.

She had a wild looking long black hair that reached to her waist, beautiful bright red eyes that fit so perfectly on her heart shaped face. She wore a black and red outfit with a short black skirt, multiple necklaces hung on her neck. Overall she seemed rather stunning under the brightness of the flickering flames.

Beside her lay a weapon, a sword in its sheath. But Syn was attentive enough to see that the sheath had been upgraded somehow, there was a cylinder filled with different colored dust. The weapon made him curious; he had always been a fan of weapons that emphasized more speed rather than power.

And so, he did what he always did when something intrigued him…

Thanks to his unique aura, he could go around her undetected, he could have most likely stolen the weapon and ran away, but something about the woman felt dangerous to the young assassin.

Always one to listen to his instincts, he waited until she turned in for the night. He didn't worry about the girl following him out of curiosity or leaving because of boredom, she knew not to take unnecessary risks after a year of following him into similar situations.

While Syn's aura may not protect him like normal aura did, it did give him unparalleled ability with stealth. He emanated no presence at all; even the sound of his breathing and the sound of his heartbeat were nullified. It helped erase the sound of his footsteps, something he had already trained to a great extent under Sevas; the ability was a blessing for any assassin.

After he was sure she was deep asleep, he made his way for her weapon, and simply took it.

There had been no grand battle, and no unnecessary anxiety. He simply took the weapon that intrigued him, and walked away only a little further out of ear-shot.

Inspecting the weapon, he had found that there were indeed multiple colors of dust, all fitted inside the sheath. Though while he had never actually been instructed in the intricacies of technology, something as simple as making out what was used in the making wasn't too hard. He also saw a trigger built into the hilt and cross-guard.

After a bit of fiddling, he figured out that if he held the trigger down, it would slightly push the handle out of it. An entire blade of dust created, out of whichever attribute was selected. If he kept pulling at the trigger in quick bursts however, it would spin to the next selection of dust.

Sadly, he had no idea what each property of dust could do, he didn't exactly use any himself, and as far as he knew, neither did his mater. He needed to get answers another way then, and just like that, a really horrible and inadvisable idea made its way into his mind.

He walked back to the camp, and sat down further across the sleeping woman. He would wait for her to wake up; he held the advantage as her weapon now lay with him.

As an assassin he had learned to stay awake through the night, though generally he didn't sleep eight hours straight either, it was more practical for him to catch short and quick naps instead.

He made a signal for the former slave to silently approach; he wasn't worried of her footsteps waking the woman up. While the girl didn't have his training, a year of survival out in the wilds taught her the ways of subtlety, especially considering how he'd never helped her out.

The girl silently made her way toward Syn, and predictably didn't wake the sleeping woman up. The girl didn't however have the young assassin's sleeping habits, so she quickly made herself comfortable on the ground next to the boy and entered the world of dreams.

And so he waited…

The forest was quiet, and the night sky beautiful sight to behold. Living out in the badlands, Syn learned to take pleasure in the little things in life, silence and a beautiful night sky being one of them.

He spent only about four hours waiting, as the lady had seemingly had enough of sleeping. At first only her eyes showed any movement, as they slowly fluttered open, blinking repeatedly to wake herself. She stretched lightly with a low purr, only to slowly extend her arm, seemingly grasping at the air…

Where she had probably remembered leaving her weapon…

Her reaction to the missing item was instant, as her entire body tensed; her eyes quickly scanned her surroundings, looking for an enemy, an action that amused Syn as he was sitting not too far away across from her.

He chuckled.

Her eyes locked onto his, red staring into a singular green. Syn's hair had grown to his shoulders; his right eye had been completely covered by his bangs as usual.

Her eyes traveled his silhouette, no doubt realizing how young the boy was. Only a moment later did she notice the weapon that lay next to him; it bore a striking resemblance to her missing weapon.

It took her three entire seconds to finally realize that it _was_ her missing weapon.

She sat up as she kept her glare on the boy. Her eyes flickered onto the form of a sleeping girl next to the boy, but it was deemed unimportant as her eyes focused back on the one who had her weapon.

"Give it back," she ordered with a malicious bite to her tone and a promise of a violent death in her blazing red eyes. If Syn hadn't had any experience with killing intent, something his master had _bathed_ him in on a daily basis, he would have been intimidated.

"On one condition," he responded blandly, obviously not bothered by her show of bravado.

The response slightly startled the red eyed woman, not because of the blunt rejection she had received, but rather because of the empty, dead tone that was used to deliver said message. Her eyes widened slightly with surprise as she scrutinized the boy further, yet found nothing that could give her further information.

That interested her, and it was the only reason why she had not sprung up to her feet and taken steps to make sure the boy would never walk again. She was an S-class Huntress; the black haired boy would be sadly mistaken if he thought she would be completely useless without her weapon. While it did lower her performance greatly, she would still be able to fight an A-class Huntsman with ease.

"Speak." She was comfortable with extending the conversation; there was nothing urgent waiting for her attention after all.

"I would like to learn more about your weapon," he responded without a moments of hesitance.

She mulled over his words for a little while, and thought about their meaning. Did he want to learn how it was made? No, that seemed like it would be too complicated for a boy of what she assumed to be in his early teens. Did he want to learn how to fight with it? It was probable.

A slight smirk tugged at her lips as she sprang to her feet, ready to attack, she already had an idea of what he wanted to ask of her. But she wouldn't be teaching any weaklings.

Syn had sprung to his feet in a ready stance with the woman's weapon; he had adopted a quick draw stance, a favorite of his that Sevas had praised as _almost_ perfect. That was high praise coming from the X-class master.

The woman had been shocked that the child had reacted to her with such speed; she had never seen a reaction speed like that even among the children of her tribe.

There were no weaklings in her tribe.

She dashed at the boy with the speed of a B-class Huntress; she would test his capabilities to satisfy her curiosity.

A mistake she would come to regret…

Syn saw the red eyed woman dash at him, at a rather moderate pace, but she was as slow as a snail, almost stationary, compared to his master. He smirked as he held the trigger of the sheath, the odachi found his hand, and in the next moment, it was only a red blur as it lashed out toward the lady's neck.

She was beyond shocked as the blade nicked the skin of her neck, any deeper and she would have been bleeding out on the floor. All because of some stupid sense of superiority, and the need to test another she considered a child.

She had luckily jumped backwards at the exact moment her head would have been freed of her shoulders. But she couldn't see the boy anymore when she re-focused back into the spot he had been standing on.

She heard the sound of a weapon un-sheathing again.

"Above!" she whispered out in urgency as she saw him stab at her, something she avoided in a rush of adrenaline. The boy had no presence to speak of; if she didn't know any better she would have thought he was a creature of Grimm. Then again, even the Grimm had a presence of sorts, one of negativity and feral hatred.

 _That's it!_ She scolded herself; she couldn't be holding back anymore, she understood that after the last exchange.

She picked up her pace in retaliation, yet when the boy attacked her with flying shurikens quite literally created out of nothing, she hesitated for a second as she jumped back in realization of what his semblance was, a metallic ability of sorts.

Yet that idea was quickly crushed when the second she landed and glimpsed a hand, one made of shadows that came out of her own shadow which nearly tripped her.

She needed him alive, so she had to drop him unconscious if she was to ever get what she wanted. That was her most crucial, and final mistake.

Finally when she had out maneuvered him with her superior speed, she had found the chance to lock him in a choke hold. Yet, not moments after, she found that she had been the one losing strength, her energy had been leaving her at an accelerated rate. And when she tried to get away from the source that was sapping her dry, she realized that the black haired boy had a firm grip on her ever weakening hold.

She lost consciousness not long after…

Yet he hadn't killed her, and waited for her to wake up again. The second time around, they had come to an agreement of sorts, one that benefited both parties. She learned both his name, the girl's, and even gave her own in return.

* * *

That day Raven had been dealt with too many surprises, and lost. She had underestimated Syn in the beginning, and she had already lost the advantage of her weapon. But the fact that she had been fighting against a fourteen year old after starting to fight at her best, had made her too overconfident, he had beaten her when she was surprised at the fact that he had more than one semblance.

"Syn, we're leaving," Raven called out to him.

"Coming," Syn responded with an undertone laced with love. Raven, to him, was the mother he never had. She had been cold and ruthless at the beginning, especially whenever she sparred with him, but it didn't take long for her to grow attached to the boy.

His strength had grown to that of an A-class by the age of fifteen, something that had impressed her greatly, and filled her with a small amount of pride. Now at the age of seventeen, he could give _some_ S-rank's a run for their money.

His appearance became more refined, though not that different in style. His black hair was kept at shoulder length; his bangs as always covered his right eye. His growth spurt hit hard as he reached to a height of six foot two, his body structure leaning heavily toward what Sevas built them for; an athletic body geared toward both amazing speed and strength.

"Where are we going today?" Syn asked his mother figure. He and Raven had bonded over life and death situations, and similar personalities overall. They had the same outlook in life, same hard personality, and the same desire for more power.

"Vale, I have some contacts I need to get information from, and it would do you good to become more familiar with another Kingdom," she responded as she swung her sword to create a red portal. "Where is Neo?"

As if her name was the last ingredient to a summoning spell, the sound of shattering glass was followed by her appearance right in-between Raven and Syn.

No longer was she the sad, poor girl from the slavers auction. Neo grew into a stunning woman over the years, having long since started a healthy diet and exercise with both Raven and Syn. Her eye color switched between pale pink, white, and brown; evidenced by her current white right eye and pink left eye.

She wore a white jacket with a pink interior, brown pants, black gloves, and black and white boots with very high heels. Something Syn always chuckled at, because even in heels she was only four foot ten.

Under her jacket was a brown corset, curved in the middle and at the bottom exposing her rather womanly hips. She also wore a multitude of necklaces just like Raven; after all they were both quite fond of the older woman.

Syn simply gave the little lady an amused glance, "Are you ready to go?"

Neo smiled as usual and nodded rapidly with an energy that baffled the young assassin more often than not. Without further preamble all three walked through the portal.

Over the years the three had many different kinds of interactions that put them closer together. Though there was a time when both Syn and Raven had a 'heart to heart', and arguably, it was the moment that truly cemented their relationship. Around the time Syn had been sixteen years old, for the first time ever; he had his hair in a ponytail, an action that let Raven see _both_ of his eyes.

* * *

Raven had walked into the living room after seeing Syn, she recognized those eyes from a time she thought she would never look back to again… It was the day she had a crushing realization, the fact that Syn wasn't truly her own, nor could he ever be.

She wasn't the type to get attached; she had abandoned her own daughter at birth after all. But she had a bond with Syn, one that could only come of understanding and trust born on the battlefield.

She had never forgotten the words he had told her, when she had asked him what he thought of the lives he had taken in his time alive.

He had answered her with conviction and an almost learned response, something that had been ingrained into his soul through repetition. Unknown to her, they were the words his master had repeated, one of many in fact.

"Life is empty. Life is meaningless. When we take a life, we aren't taking anything of value. Assassins are killers. That's all we do. That's all we are. There are no poets in the bitter business."

He had many moments where he would repeat something from the past, something that for him was a matter of fact, as much as the sun was for those who had seen it rise and fall every single day.

Yet on that day she had found out who exactly Syn's parents were. She had seen Syn before, of course she had, Qrow would never stop talking about _his_ little boy. Syn was blood indeed, but he wasn't _her_ son.

When the young assassin had comeback from a hunting routine, he noticed Raven blankly staring at the surface of the table. There was something new in the older woman's red eyes, something that seemed to have broken, and her eyes almost seemed to tear up.

Raven? Crying? It seemed like an absurd notion to even cross his mind, then again, Raven had never cried in front of him, not a single time.

"Raven?" he asked carefully.

Raven blinked the tears away at the sound of her name; she looked toward her surrogate son, and she could almost see the cracks in reality, trying, and succeeding in taking away the one of the few things that might have been important to her heart.

She would tell him who his father and mother were. She knew he would most likely be ecstatic, most likely rush out in order to find the parents that were lost to him.

"I know who your parents are," she spoke without even the slightest hitch in her voice. She buried her hesitation as far and as deep as she could, far enough that it would not be able to see the light of day ever again.

"Oh…" Syn's answer was about as full of emotion as a rock. "I don't care."

"They're" she abruptly stopped as his answer had slowly sunk into her mind.

Her eyes widened further than the boy had thought ever possible, it would have been a moment to break out in laughter any other time, but Syn knew that Raven was in a delicate spot.

"I'm sixteen years old now, as far as I care, you're my only mother, and master my only father," the boy answered with confidence in both his eyes and tone.

Raven, in her shock, didn't notice the inclusion of 'father' or 'master', as she had completely blanked out after being called a mother, something that wouldn't be believed by anyone that knew her.

The ever stoic Raven Branwen losing her composure, Ha! What moron would believe that tall tale?

And here she was, worried about him abandoning her as she had once done her own, worried that the information of his parents would drive him straight toward them, and away from her. What a fool she had been.

Without notice, her laughter resounded through her tribe, one that soon drew Neo into attendance.

Neo didn't know why Raven was laughing as if she had heard the joke of the century, or why she had been choking Syn to the point his face nearly turned blue.

Though after a closer look, she realized that Raven was _hugging_ the young assassin. After giving the situation a slight shrug, the shortest girl in the vicinity bounded next to the duo and joined in on their hug.

Even though Neo's relationship wasn't quite as close with Raven like it was with Syn. Raven had come to look at Neo with fondness simply because of her relationship with Syn, she looked at Neo and saw the closest person Syn had, even though he never admitted it to himself or anyone else.

That night Syn had fallen asleep on her lap and Neo on his, as they simply watched the light flicker in the fireplace of the living room. Raven had kept stroking their heads with affection, completely forgetting about the dried tears on her face.

* * *

"Vernal," Syn nodded at the blue eyed girl as soon as he came out of the other side of the portal in vale, the city of vale looked rather relaxing under the night sky.

Raven's semblance allowed her to create portals to people she bonded with, which was why she had sent Vernal with a small group of tribesman to Vale in an effort to save time while they took care of other matters.

"Syn," she returned the nod with a smile. Vernal was particularly dedicated to Raven and the tribe, so by extension she felt a great deal of respect toward the young assassin and his longtime partner.

"Before I leave I want to talk to you both, Syn, Neo," Raven started as she dismissed Vernal with a wave of her hand, and walked toward a café across the street.

Syn and Neo exchanged a quick glance of curiosity, but decided to follow Raven anyway. Both of them correctly assumed that whatever Raven had to talk to them about would have something to do with them being in Vale. Syn and Neo both knew that their presence was unnecessary whenever Raven needed to get in touch with a contact, so it was pretty obvious that they were needed for something else.

Neo smiled at Syn and pulled on his arm, leading him straight into the café. The young assassin didn't mind the treatment, Neo had grown on him. She was stronger than before, strong enough to support him out in the field.

They took their seats at the corner of the shop, far from any prying ears. The shop was rather small, but it was peaceful. Their spot was right outside of the shop, a glass table and wide wooden chairs that surrounded it.

Raven took a deep breath before she started, "I think it would be a good idea for the both of you to enter Beacon's initiation in two days."

She didn't give her reasons or try to persuade them, only because she wanted to see their thoughts on the matter before trying to convince them.

Their reactions were expected however. Syn cocked a disbelieving eyebrow, and Neo rolled her eyes at what she perceived to be a bad joke.

"Why?" Syn asked. "We're beyond Beacon's level of skill. It's an academy to teach Huntsman hopefuls how to become Huntsmen and Huntresses, to fight against the Grimm rather than people."

[You'd be sticking us with children,] Neo pouted as she explained in the sign language. Raven, Syn, and even Vernal had put in effort into learning the sign language with Neo to make conversation with the multi colored girl more comfortable, and as a form of support.

"You are kids," Raven pointed out with an amused smile. They weren't, not in the truest sense of the word, and she knew that.

The young assassin rolled his eyes at Raven poking fun at Neo, "They don't teach anything useful in that academy, the students have never even gotten their hands dirty."

All those sitting at the table knew that Syn didn't mean that the students never fought, but rather that they had never taken a life before, something that all of them believed was an inevitability in a life of conflict.

"There are some uses to attending the academy." Raven knew she only needed to convince Syn; Neo would follow him as she always had. "It pays to know who your future opponents are, how they are trained, how they are taught, and how they live."

 _Embrace the shadows… Breathe the silence… Be ordinary, be invisible… Mark the man… know every out…_

Raven knew she had Syn's attention, not because he had any outward tells, but simply because he hadn't shot her down again. "Who knows, you might even learn something new."

Both Neo and Syn shared a glance, and then proceeded to roll their eyes in perfect sync.

Neo shrugged and gave her own two cents on the matter, [Maybe it's not such a bad idea. We haven't had any variety for a long time now.]

Two against one…

It didn't really matter, but it did drive Syn to give the subject at hand some more thought. In his opinion, other than the fact that he'd learn how to better integrate himself with the populace, there really wasn't much to gain from Beacon.

Then again, he also didn't really have a goal to strive toward to begin with, so other than taking contracts, training, and working with the Tribe, he had a lot of free time.

"The initiation is in two days, I doubt they would be so accepting of newcomers."

Raven smiled at the response, she knew he had already accepted the idea. "I have my ways."

A waitress came along to drop off their orders; A Neapolitan sundae for Neo, coffee for Raven, and a chocolate sundae for Syn.

Syn didn't think too much about it, after all Vernal had been here for them to use Raven's semblance in the first place. It wasn't much of a stretch to think that she had ordered for them in advance, knowing they would attend the café.

Raven didn't even bat an eyelash at Syn and Neo's orders as she sipped her coffee. The fact that they were assassins didn't have any impact on their taste buds or anything, besides, tough life or not, they were in fact still only seventeen years old.

Though their manner of eating was an entirely amusing thing to watch, if for no other reason than because of how much of a stark contrast they made.

Syn ate calmly, took slow and deliberate bites with his spoon, and through all of it his expression didn't really shift from the normal neutral look he kept on his face.

Neo on the other hand, while it would be an exaggeration to say that she ate savagely, she did eat faster than Syn, and her expression would always be one of bliss whenever she consumed her favorite dessert.

"Fine, we'll attend," Syn said after he swallowed a bite of his sundae.

Raven nodded at his response and turned to Neo, more as a courtesy than an actual need for an answer.

[Do you really need to ask?] Neo signed with an exasperated attitude.

The tribe leader wasn't surprised, "Good, tomorrow you two will need to ride a bullhead to Beacon for the gathering and most likely stay there the night for the initiation exam the next day."

She paused for a second before continuing, "You also might want to do something about your lack of pupils while you stay here…"

That caught his attention, "Why?"

Raven didn't answer, simply looked at him in a way that implied he most likely knew why. It didn't take him long to figure out, the lack of pupils would definitely make him more recognizable.

Over the years Syn had figured out how to use the full potential of devoured abilities. Though he still only had the three; because there simply aren't many huntsmen, huntresses or bandits with unlocked auras out in the badlands.

His shape shifting semblance could now be controlled not only in size, but also in partial shifting. He could change his eyes only, his muscles, or give himself a tail.

His steel semblance somehow fused with his peculiar aura, and became black steel with the capability to devour its way through aura without resistance. He figured it was a way to level the playing field, considering how his own aura didn't protect him either.

His shadow semblance became his absolute favorite when he realized that it could be used to store items in his own shadow, and even for traveling through shadows.

Either way, he understood Raven's intentions and changed his eyes enough so that a pair of angular cat pupils took their place right in the middle of his iris.

Nodding her head with satisfaction, Raven sipped the last of her coffee, and stood to leave. Before she left however both of her hands found themselves on Neo and Syn's head, giving them a slow pat, an action that brought a slight smile on both of their faces.

Neo finished her dessert not long after, [So, what now?]

The young assassin simply shrugged with a spoon in his mouth, he really didn't know how to fill their time between then and tomorrow. So he offered the option to Neo instead, "You can decide."

Neo simply nodded and pulled him along to her destination, leaving him just barely enough time to put the required Lien on the table for their orders.

She pulled him through a crowd, all the while looking for an interesting place to go to. It only took her ten minutes to finally stop in front of a clothing shop… for men.

Syn stared blankly at the shop for what seemed to be a long time, before he decided to get an explanation. "Why?"

Neo simply pointed at his clothes, her body language indicating her growing annoyance, before explaining, [You always wear the same type of clothes!]

He nodded at the accurate statement, he always did wear grey and black clothes that allowed him a free range of movement… it was practical.

The multi colored girl knew she wasn't getting anywhere, so instead she tried another route. [We're going to beacon academy tomorrow, you can't keep dressing like an assassin and go to a school that trains huntsmen and huntresses.]

He acquiesced to her point and let her drag him into the store, no one saw him again for the next two hours…

When Syn finally left the shop, he looked completely different.

He wore high black boots and dark blue jeans with a single belt wrapped around each thigh. A belt featuring a skull themed buckle wrapped around his waist, and he wore black gloves with a single buckled strap on each one.

He wore a deep blue coat, with two coattails, with a pronounced buckled collar, and a black leather strap going over his right shoulder that wrapped around his chest. The front of his coat patterned individually from the rest of it, resembling a sort of vest or body armor, with a zipper closed all the way up from the waist to the bottom of Syn's neck.

Neo couldn't stop taking pictures on her scroll as she basically teleported all around him in a feat of pure speed, trying her best to get a picture from every angle. Syn could have sworn that when she finally stopped, she only did so to send the pictures to Raven.

Neo made her approval obvious enough with her actions, yet decided to make it even clearer for the young assassin, [You look amazing! We should definitely do this again.]

While he didn't say it out loud, Syn was actually quite happy with his new outfit. Leaving fashion aside his clothes gave him free range of movement, something that baffled him.

How could Jeans give free range of movement? He could extend his leg all the way up to his head without trouble; then again he supposed that considering how fashionable Huntsmen and Huntresses dressed most of the time, someone must have put a lot of thought into making clothes that work well while looking good all the same.

Neo, as if she could feel his approval, smiled beatifically before grabbing his hand and dragging him to their next destination, which just so happened to be a night club. Which confused Syn, because alcohol did nothing for him, he figured out early on that his aura simply _devoured_ anything that might be considered detrimental to his health to a certain degree.

Loud music was the first thing that assaulted the duo as they entered the club, yet Neo led them to the bar through the crowd with practiced ease.

The bartender eyed the duo suspiciously, most likely wondering what two kids their age were even doing in a place like that. Something he decided to express, "Aren't you two a bit young for this place?"

Syn cocked a brow at the man and simply put forward a stack of lien, clearly the man must have been mistaken.

His tune changed quickly at the sight of money, "What can I get you?"

"Iced tea," Syn ordered.

[Neapolitan Ice-cream,] Neo showed him the text on her scroll. She had other ways to communicate with those who most likely wouldn't know sign language.

The bartender chuckled at the order, it wasn't exactly something clubs specialized in, yet it wasn't her childish order that he found humorous. "You're in luck; Melanie and Militia eat different kinds of ice-cream so we have your order in stock. I'll be back in a moment."

Neo's scroll vibrated, effectively bringing both Syn's and her attention to the incoming text. Neo moved the scroll into Syn's view so he could read its contents.

Raven had responded to the pictures Neo had sent, [We should have Neo dress you more often.]

It was short, but it relayed her humor about the situation just fine.

The bartender came back with their order quickly, good service, it was something both of them could appreciate.

It was then that a mane of blonde hair made itself known at the corner of Syn's eyes.

"Strawberry sunrise, no ice. Oh, and one of those little umbrellas," the girl ordered. It didn't take her long to notice the duo sitting next to her.

"Hey there," she started toward Syn with a slight purr in her voice.

Sadly, it wasn't the first time Syn had to deal with such advances. Women who specialized in assassination found seduction to be one of their go to methods, and he had many assassins come after him at some point because of conflicting contracts.

He simply rolled his eyes and took a sip of his drink.

While the cold shoulder did surprise the blonde, she didn't let it stop her. Instead she took out her scroll and waved it in front of the young assassin as she continued, "I'm Yang. Do you by any chance know anything about this woman?"

On the scroll was someone he knew very, _very_ well.

Raven Branwen…

"No," the lie came easy to his lips. Raven was well known in many circles, and none of them were particularly nice, so if someone was looking for her, he was sure Raven didn't want them to be doing so.

Yang took the lie at face value, "Right, thanks." She grasped a necklace made of wood hanging off her neck, as if holding it gave her peace.

Neo simply focused on her ice-cream, completely disregarding the blonde girl looking for information.

After a few short minutes, both Syn and Neo made their way out of the club. Syn could see Yang going up to a tall man in a suit, but didn't see the importance in it. Though by the time the duo finally left the club, they could hear gun shots coming from the same club.

It didn't really matter to them though; tomorrow they would go to beacon.

* * *

 **Author Note: So yeah, I realize a lot moved fast and trust me I didn't just come up with that on the spot. This was always supposed to happen, just like how Sevas became Syn's father figure and technically replaced Qrow, I wanted Raven to become his mother figure and technically replace Glynda. I know it seems cruel, but I wanted it to be that way. Will Syn ever fix his bonds with his true parents? Welp, only one way to find out xD**

 **I hope you liked the chapter, review and tell me what you think.**


	6. Chapter 6 - Partners

**Author's Note: Yes, I know. Late update and all that jazz xD I will remind you that I never actually put up a deadline, but yeah... don't kill me. Also I'm sorry to say, but my 2nd semester started (4th year of University) so releases will be more sporadic, because I have a thesis to write this year. I'll do my best to keep updating reasonably and hopefully keep you guys (as well as my sister) happy. Mainly my sister because she can actually threaten my with bodily harm...**

 **Anyway, Enjoy!**

* * *

She remembered, remembered a day she believed was the start of everything.

It had started like any other, they had woken up, ate, and then moved on to a destination she knew nothing about. It was all a routine after weeks of spending time with the young assassin.

Yet that particular day was different. They had run into a large number of Grimm, half a dozen Ursai, a dozen Beowolves, a handful of Death Stalkers, almost three dozen Creeps, and even a Beringel standing at the head of the pack.

She remembered thinking that it was the end of the line for them, yet even then she couldn't see a shred fear in his eyes, as if he had stood before and weathered much worse. Reinforced by his determination she buried her fears deep down and fought alongside him, not being able to match his skill she took on the smaller Creeps and Beowolves with the spare dagger she kept on her person.

Her experience from the fighting pits had served her well, young as she was slaves weren't considered human, and when thrown to fight each other, age and size simply didn't matter. Her determination and skill came from a crucible not many survived, and she wasn't ashamed of it.

However even then she knew her skill alone shouldn't have allowed her to survive that particular skirmish, which was why even months later down the line she wondered how the sheer number of Grimm hadn't overwhelmed her.

She had had a sneaking suspicion that she may have had more help than she thought. After all, not once did a Grimm attack her from a blind spot.

The fight – if it could have been called that – hadn't lasted long; Syn had torn through most of them with ease as if gliding through them, flipping over swipes that should have had proven lethal, broken through skulls that should have been impossible to penetrate for someone his age.

She didn't know if Syn had been too consumed in his battle to be aware of his surroundings, or if his focus couldn't be split any further. But she had seen the reflection of the scope, the barrel aiming at the young assassin as it prepared for a debilitating shot.

Her body moved before she had even realized it, and even when her muscles prepped her for the incoming pain by tensing, she didn't – not even for a second – hesitate.

The bullet blew right through her left shoulder, effectively putting her into the ground, but its direction was successfully veered off of the original target.

It was a stupid thing to do, she realized that, but for a reason unknown she couldn't control her actions. Maybe it was because even though the young assassin had never helped her directly, he had done more for her than she would have expected of any other stranger.

She knew his speed; he could have left her behind to fend for herself without an ounce of effort, but he hadn't.

He didn't offer her food, but didn't prevent her from helping herself to stave off the hunger.

He didn't free her from her shackles, but had _conveniently_ forgotten a dagger laying around in plain view, a dagger that not only freed her but had also helped her survive against Grimm and hunt efficiently.

She saw a familiar dagger cut through the air and find its place right in the center of the shooters forehead.

But it wasn't his accuracy or even his instant reaction to the situation at hand that shocked her, it was the warmth that spread through her entire being rather than the cold she expected.

Syn hadn't bothered with the rest of the Grimm, and instead ran straight to her. He put his left arm under her knees, hooked his right around her shoulders, and easily carried her away from the pack out for their blood.

She didn't know why he had helped her directly for the first time in months. Maybe it was because she had grown on him after months of being the only person around, maybe he had felt obligated to after she took a bullet for him.

She really didn't know, but it hadn't stopped her from smiling into his chest, a smile she had long forgotten she had.

Rather than leave her on her own, like she _knew_ many others would have done, he took care of her wounds after setting a safe enough distance between them and the Grimm.

He gave her food, rather than wait for her to take it. Re-dressed her wound when she needed it, and didn't leave the new camp he set up until she got better. Everything had changed that day, they weren't simply strangers anymore…

They were partners.

She remembered that day fondly as the start of their relationship.

* * *

"Neo," the young assassin repeated. He had already called her name twice before, yet she seemed completely lost in thought as her eyes locked onto the scenery outside of their hotel through the window.

Thankfully he wouldn't need to take drastic measures as her attention snapped toward him after calling her for the third time.

She blinked at him in askance, [What?]

"We need to get going to the Bullhead headed to Beacon," he explained patiently. He wasn't really in any hurry, even if they missed the Bullhead it wouldn't matter, Beacon wasn't really too high a priority for either of them.

Neo nodded her head in confirmation, and extended her hand in the traditional 'give me' sign.

Syn's shadow trembled unnaturally in response before, slowly, Neo's pink parasol was forced out of it and into Syn's hand. He handed her the pink parasol before they made their way out of the hotel.

It was a nice five star hotel; money was no issue after years of contracts and taking part in the activities of the Branwen tribe.

The young assassin left the key of their room at the reception before leaving.

"Please come again," the receptionist called out to their retreating backs.

Neo tapped Syn on the shoulder to get his attention as they walked toward their destination. [Excited?]

Sarcasm never translated well when it came to Neo, but it was painfully obvious to Syn in this particular case. He decided to play along even if just to humor her, "Very, I'm sure we'll have a very productive year ahead of us."

Neo snickered in response, or at least it looked like she did. She covered her smile with a hand, and her shoulders shook as if laughing, though no sound came out of her mouth.

It didn't take long for them to get close enough to their destination to be able to see the bullhead itself, and the people boarding it.

"Is that…" Syn focused his eyes further, "a Schnee?"

He wondered for a moment what a Schnee could have been doing in Vale, boarding the bullhead for Beacon no less. While he didn't know much about the family other than the fact that they were one of the biggest suppliers of Dust, there was another reason why the presence of one surprised him in that particular area.

They had a massive bounty on their heads in some circles; the White Fang in particular would pay very well for the head of a Schnee, and even more for a living Schnee to do with whatever it was they did.

Sevas' training kicked in almost instantly, already he had thought of a dozen different ways he could eliminate the target with and get into contact with the nearest information dealer to get the word out for those interested. His entrance, exit, and collateral potential all accounted for.

A poke in his ribs however quickly brought him out of that train of thought.

Neo had noticed his tells, while he didn't have many, she had spent enough time around him to notice him prepping for a kill. First she noticed the quickening of his steps, the sound of his breathing disappearing, his singular visible eye glowing in anticipation. It was like watching shadows writhe before somehow swallowing all the light around it.

Syn turned to her after snapping back to reality, discarding his previous actions as inadvisable with their current goal in mind.

[We're not working,] she signed at him with a pout. Neo thought of Beacon as a form of vacation, and she would much rather spend a longer amount of time on vacation before they were pegged as killers and forced to leave.

Syn' brow rose in curiosity as they got into the bullhead. "Are you actually looking forward to this?"

Neo shrugged in response, [Vacation, time away from work.]

"I thought you didn't like the idea of being surrounded by children."

[Not everything can be perfect.]

The bullhead took flight as they walked around, while seats were available the aircraft was more than big enough for people to stroll through the ship and socialize if they so desired.

* * *

The blonde witch didn't like it; she didn't like it at all. "This is a bad idea Ozpin."

While Raven wouldn't be classified as an enemy, and was even a source of information when approached by Qrow from time to time, she was most definitely not an ally. So having her drop by only a day prior to the gathering day for the initiates to have Ozpin sign two new students on Beacon rubbed her the wrong way.

Ozpin could only sigh at an argument he thought was already over with, he understood Glynda's apprehension, he truly did, but he also knew that Raven was an important piece on the board. "If Raven Branwen can vouch for these two examinees, and they _are_ examinees now, then I see no reason why I shouldn't make a small exception."

Glynda wasn't arguing the quality of the newcomers; she was much more worried about something else. Her eyes narrowed in annoyance and her voice elevated only slightly as she spoke once more, "You know the kind of people Raven associates with, we could be inviting murderers into a school full of students we're supposed to be protecting!"

She honestly couldn't believe Ozpin would let this happen; she had followed the man through thick and thin, bled for him, and made others bleed under his orders. Yet sometimes his decisions made her want to question his sanity.

The students of Beacon were all she had left, she prioritized their protection above all else. It was why Ozpin's decision ran against her very being, but even then she didn't outright show hostility because she knew that more than likely Ozpin knew what the right decision was.

He motioned his hand as if waving her concerns away, "Qrow and Raven entered this institute under the same circumstances. Today Qrow is one of our greatest allies, and Raven is… helpful."

Glynda knew when an argument wouldn't be going her way no matter how much she pushed the issue. She huffed in surrender and left the headmaster's office with tense shoulders, leaving behind a rather tired Ozpin.

"We will need all the help we can get for the coming threat," he thought out loud.

* * *

Having already landed, both Neo and Syn walked out last to take in the new scenery. What they didn't expect to be greeted with however, was an explosion.

Following the sound of the explosion Syn noticed a short girl in red arguing with the Schnee girl, he didn't care much for it, though as he was walking away a tug on his sleeve called for his attention.

[Let's talk to the girl in red,] Neo signed at him with a grin.

He cocked a questioning brow at that, "Why?"

He doubted they would make friends here, they were all too different. Besides, more bonds were the last thing he needed, they were just weaknesses. He put Raven and Neo in as an exception of course; they could take care of themselves just fine.

[We came here to learn to fit in. if we don't socialize we'll be sticking out like a sore thumb,] Neo reasoned with him. She didn't _really_ want to have a group of friends or anything, but she did have a desire to know how the rest of the world lived.

It sounded reasonable, but a quick glance at the, now alone, red girl lying on the floor gave him a wide understanding smile. "You want to make friends with a fellow shorty?"

It was a jab, and Neo knew it. She puffed up her cheeks and simply dragged him there in silence, not confirming or denying his accusation.

"Welcome to Beacon" they heard the girl speak sullenly to no one in particular.

Before she could sink completely into depression however Neo – with Syn in tow – walked up to the girl with a wide smile on her face, their sudden appearance quickly putting a halt to whatever thoughts the girl in red could have had.

Neo waved hello at the fellow short girl, and received one in turn, though it was much more awkward.

"Oh hi, I'm Ruby," she introduced herself after picking herself up quickly in an effort to make a good first impression.

It did confuse Ruby slightly when Neo brought out her scroll to type at near lightning speed, but the confusion dissipated as she saw its contents shown to her. [I'm Neo, and the one next to me is Syn.]

"Why won't you talk?" Ruby asked in a moment of pure obliviousness.

"She can't," the young assassin interjected. Not because Neo would be hurt by the reminder, but simply to get the entire thing over with sooner. Hell, he was sure that even if Neo got her voice back she'd avoid using it simply because of the fun involved in confusing and annoying people.

Neo nodded slowly as fake tears filled her eyes, confirming the young assassin's answer.

He simply rolled his eyes at the way Neo got her kicks out of tricking people; Ruby on the other hand instantly panicked at the sight of tears.

"No, don't cry! Please, I didn't mean it like that! I'm so, so, so sorry!" Ruby started blabbing in an effort to stop Neo's tears.

When her efforts didn't yield any results, Ruby started fidgeting as she moved her hands around; obviously confused as to what she should be doing in order to cheer up what could be her new friend. First impressions weren't her thing, they really, really weren't.

Neo's mask dropped as a smile once again graced her features, one which screamed 'gotcha'.

Ruby, finally aware of the fact that she had been played, was elated. "Oh thank god."

Syn found that weird, any normal person would have been slightly annoyed, but he didn't dwell on it.

[We should go,] Neo signed, not bothering to use her scroll anymore. Ruby simply looked at Syn for an explanation.

Neo knew Syn would be forced to translate for her.

"She says we should go," Syn translated before taking the lead toward the gathering.

"Oh, yeah, definitely," Ruby responded and quickly caught up to the duo.

The trio walked in silence for what was only about twenty seconds before Ruby couldn't take the silence in the air anymore. "So… What weapons do you guys use?"

Had it been anyone else asking, both Syn and Neo would have taken it as a sloppy way to gather information on a target. But both of them recognized an uncomfortable girl looking for a way to escape into a subject that brought her a semblance comfort.

Neo shrugged and twirled her parasol in front of her before drawing the hidden blade. It was a simple weapon, the parasol was quite sturdy, sturdy enough to double as a shield and the blade didn't have any shifting features.

Ruby obviously didn't have a problem with simplicity, she was happy with seeing another weapon, "Simple and effective," she nodded in approval.

Neo's chest puffed in pride for her weapon, simple or not, she liked it. It was very… her, it looked harmless and innocent, but was actually sharp and dangerous.

Her big silver eyes moved to Syn in an effort to prompt him. Before the question could leave her lips however he intervened, "You show me yours, and I show you mine."

While normally he wouldn't be as accommodating, he wanted to mess with the girl as well… Who knew he had a sadistic streak in him?

Ruby's silver eyes nearly shone with excitement, Syn and Neo would have sworn up and down that her pupils were replaced with glowing stars for a brief moment. The girl pulled out a red item from her waist and let it transform before their eyes, in under a second a red scythe planted itself into the ground by the tip.

"A scythe," Syn stated rather than questioned. He used Scythes before, while he was proficient with them and liked them well enough; they weren't his favorite type of weapon.

"It's also a customizable, high impact sniper rifle. This is Crescent Rose," Ruby introduced with a smile. "Now it's your turn!"

Neo looked at Syn curiously, she knew for a fact that he didn't really have a weapon. He was a jack of all trades; one single weapon would do his abilities a disservice, which was why she was curious about what he would do.

Syn stretched out an arm before, just like with Ruby, in under a second a metallic substance came out of his skin and transformed into a very familiar weapon with but a few differences.

A scythe took its place in the young assassin's hand. Where the previous one was red; this one was clad in metallic silver. Where the previous one had a white edge, this one was an abyss black.

Ruby's smile froze for an entire minute; she was intimately familiar with that Scythe. She had designed it, hand-picked its parts, and built it through sweat and blood with multiple sleepless nights.

"Crescent Rose," the whispered words left her lips even before her brain could catch up to reality. Her smile disappeared as fast as it came before she shouted, " _No_! Don't do that! That's _MY_ baby!"

As if her words were the command, the silver scythe disappeared just as fast as it came to be. For Ruby, it was only then that all became right with the world.

She didn't even question it; the reality that another Crescent Rose might have existed was too much for her mind to handle, she didn't even want to know how it was possible to begin with, out of sight out of mind.

Neo snickered silently at the over the top reaction Ruby showed.

It didn't take long for Syn and Neo to find themselves in a room full of children as far as the eye could see. Never before had they wished to ditch a place as fast as lightning… learn new things every day.

"You guys should come meet my sister!" Ruby started before pulling Neo by the arm and dragging her toward a bright blonde haired girl.

Syn chuckled briefly at the image of Neo being manhandled by a girl only three to four inches taller than her as he followed their trail.

"Ruby," Yang greeted her sister with a brief hug.

"Yang, this is Neo and Syn. Guys, this is my big sister Yang," Ruby quickly introduced with hopes of the two parties getting along with each other. It was important to the red reaper, she had already considered the two newcomers as friends, and it was essential that her sister like her new friends.

Yang gave a brief once over before recognizing them, "Hey, I know you. Weren't you two at Junior's just yesterday?"

Neo nodded at the blonde's question just as Syn hummed in agreement.

Yang grinned before nudging Ruby's shoulder, "This one's taken Ruby… or did you like a challenge?"

"What? No! Yaaang," Ruby whined. Why did her sister always have to embarrass her like that? It was a question she always asked herself, yet never got an answer to.

It was during their banter that Syn noticed a wooden pendant swaying on Yang's neck. Instantly the memory presented itself in his mind.

After all, it was his pendant, once upon a time…

* * *

Glynda stood frozen at the stage as Ozpin gave his yearly speech to the initiates.

At first she had noticed the pendant being worn by Yang, she knew of it of course, Qrow had told her about where the last heirloom of her only child was kept. At first she wanted to do nothing other than order the man to give it back to her, to rage and scream at him for taking away the last piece of connection she had with her baby.

Qrow, as battered as he had been at the time, did his best to explain to her that her – because she hadn't allowed him to call himself the father of her child anymore – child had laid his life down in an effort to save both Yang and Ruby, it was only fair that they get to keep a piece of the person who changed their fate.

She didn't care at the time; she had already lost her child once, only to learn of his demise years later. All she wanted was a reminder of what she once held in her arms.

But eventually she yielded; as much as she hated the man Qrow had a point. Knowingly or not, Aurora had given his life to protect his cousins; it was only fair that the traumatized girl kept the one thing that let her feel safe again.

Yet if it was only that, she would have been fine; she expected the pendant on the day of the initiation, prepared for what it would make her feel and the memories it would unearth. What she hadn't expected was _him._

A young man standing at six foot two, black hair just like _his_ had been.

His only visible eye was a bright green just like _his_ …

But it had a cat-like pupil, unlike her Aurora's unique pupil-less eyes.

 _Probably a Faunus_ , she reasoned. Hope had crushed her for years, even after mourning she hoped that maybe, somehow he had survived, yet with every passing day reality beat down her hopes and made her swallow them.

 _There wasn't a body,_ she told herself before.

 _There rarely ever is with Grimm._

 _A Huntsman could have found him before the Grimm killed him,_ she tried again a day later.

 _A Huntsman did find him before the Grimm killed him. Qrow…_ Anger flourished in her heart with the name as a reminder.

"Glynda?" a voice called.

She couldn't hear it, her eyes frozen solid on his silhouette. She had seen every single document on the students attending the initiation, yet the boy in blue and the short girl with the parasol weren't in her memory.

It took her seconds to make the connection to Raven, they were her entrants.

Her hope had died a long time ago, so it was easy to convince her one more time.

"Glynda?" she identified Ozpin's voice.

"Ah, yes." She pushed her glasses up and walked toward the microphone to explain the rest, she didn't know where Ozpin had stopped, but she didn't need to, her explanation hadn't changed in years.

Her last thought had convinced her of the futility of hoping once again despite the odds.

 _Your son isn't… wasn't, a killer._

* * *

After a short awkward pause the announcement was made by Glynda, "You will gather in the ballroom tonight, tomorrow your initiation begins. Be ready, you're dismissed."

Yang was the first to speak up, "That was… weird."

Syn had to agree, the blonde professor looked lost deeply in thought throughout the entire thing. Even Ozpin seemed to be confused by her empty gaze for a while there, but they moved on just fine.

Neo tapped Syn's shoulder and motioned for them to get going; they still needed to change out of their clothes. Without waiting for Ruby or Yang they made their way toward the Ballroom with the rest of the students.

Another tap on his shoulder called for his attention, [My clothes.]

Syn nodded his head and turned a corner, away from prying eyes his shadow flickered and Neo's night apparel was forced out into his hand. Simple black short shorts and a large white shirt, too large for her but that was the point, it was baggy and comfortable.

Neo took her clothes with an appreciative nod and headed toward the showers.

Syn headed toward the showers for the boys, while he was used to sleeping without a shower after years of not having the luxury, showering still felt nice. He stripped out of his clothes after entering the shower, not wanting to create a commotion with the numerous scars running across his body, and enjoyed the warm water.

Neo finished first of course; Syn enjoyed the peace that came with showering a little too much, no one there to pester him. She headed to the ballroom without waiting for Syn in hopes of finding a spot they could sleep in peacefully.

Neo knew Syn wouldn't allow himself to sleep in the middle of the ballroom where everyone surrounded him, which was why she looked for empty spots around the walls, at least that way they would _both_ feel more at ease.

So when she found a candle lit corner with only one girl in a yukata styled shirt, she thought that it was the perfect spot. Neo grabbed two sleeping bags from the entrance, left there by the staff for everyone to use, and walked next to the girl to set up.

It was only then that Syn came in, fully dressed in long black baggy pants and a black turtle neck. Neo instantly waved in an exaggerated manner, signaling him to go over.

There were too many people stuffed into a single room for Syn's tastes, he doubted he'd get much sleep like that but lack of sleep wasn't something unfamiliar to him. He noticed a girl sitting next to Neo, deeply focused in her reading material, but didn't give her a second glance.

Neo struck up a conversation the second his body relaxed against the wall. [What do you think the initiation will be like?]

He had wondered about it, Raven hadn't told them anything at all about the initiation or the inner workings of Beacon itself. He assumed it would have something to do with combating Grimm, as it befitted the status of Huntsmen.

"We'll probably end up fighting against Grimm; there is a forest close to the school grounds that would make such an initiation easier."

Neo's cheeks puffed in a mock pout, something Syn couldn't help but think was adorable. She didn't like the idea of fighting low level Grimm, it wasn't exactly her idea of a 'fun time'.

However all good things must come to an end, especially peaceful atmospheres.

"Helloooo!"

Three pairs of eyes locked onto the nearing form of Yang, waving as exaggeratedly as Neo had been only minutes ago while dragging Ruby by the arm.

"Oh hey, Syn, Neo," she nodded at both of them in greeting before going after her intended target. She gently pushed her sister forward, "I believe you two may know each other."

Finally the girl sitting with them realized that ignoring the problem wouldn't actually make it miraculously disappear, so she responded instead, "Aren't you that girl that exploded?"

Neo snickered silently at the reveal, her and Syn had heard the explosion but weren't lucky enough to actually see it happen. She wondered what kind of supernatural level of clumsiness it would take for a person to explode.

"Uh, yeah, my name is Ruby," she started with only a slight pause as she put her hand forward for a handshake, only to have it ignored. "But you can just call me crater… actually you can just call me Ruby."

The awkward silence stretched long enough for Yang to realize that her little sister needed help, "So, what's your name?"

"Blake."

Neo slapped a hand onto her face, disbelieving the kind of social wreckage she was witnessing. She intervened as she pointed to the book Blake had been reading, pointing the sister's toward a better subject.

Ruby, surprisingly being the first to get the hint, pushed forward. "Right, well, I'm Ruby, and this is my elder sister Yang. What are you reading?"

Blake was much more inclined to a subject she was more familiar with, "It's about a man with two souls, each fighting for control over his body."

"I love books," Ruby started. "Yang used to read me every night before bed, stories of heroes and monsters. They're one of the reasons why I want to become a Huntress."

Blake responded with a tone one would use when humoring the childish dream of a kid, "Why is that? Hoping you'll live happily ever after?"

Ruby either didn't notice or didn't care, but she spoke with what would amount to conviction for someone her age, "I'm hoping we all will. As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the books, as someone who fought for what was right and who protected people who couldn't protect themselves."

Before Blake could even utter a word in response, the conversation was halted when Syn laughed for the first time in their presence. Though Neither Ruby, Yang or Blake had known Syn for long, they had pegged him as a silent guy who rarely showed large amounts of emotion. Which was why the resounding laughter was slightly shocking for them.

Even Neo laughed silently, only made apparent through the shaking of her body, and the wide smile she had at the time.

"There is no such thing as a happily ever after." He and Neo knew that better than anyone, the Grimm weren't the problem, they were a threat yes, but even if Grimm suddenly went extinct, violence and conflict would still persist in another form.

His voice was soft, never elevating, yet they could hear his words as clear as day. "Conflict is a core characteristic of being alive, whether it is between Grimm and humanity, Faunus versus Humans, or even the same race versus itself. Evil will stop to exist the day there are no sapient beings on Remnant."

Silence set in almost too easily after his words, Blake and Yang simply looked at Syn with curiosity, but it was Ruby's reaction that was the most interesting. The girl didn't seem depressed as if her world was crumbling, but rather she seemed defiant in a manner that suggested she wouldn't accept such an outcome.

"No! That can't be true, it won't be! We all do our best to learn and get better as Huntsmen and Huntresses; we _have_ to make a difference, it isn't all for nothing!" Her voice elevated from a slight whisper to a shout that startled everyone in the ballroom in the span of a second. Yang slung an arm around Ruby in an effort to comfort her, but didn't say anything. The blonde brawler knew that violence was simply there, with as many bar fights she'd been in, it would be foolish to say that it could stop completely.

Neither Syn nor Neo gave an outward reaction to the outburst, for them, it was simply a child throwing a tantrum in the face of a harsh reality. It didn't really matter; with her chosen profession it would not take long for the girl to learn that her dream was just that… a dream.

The tense atmosphere was quickly lifted by another voice, "What is going on here!?"

Ruby's head snapped toward the voice so fast, Neo could have sworn she heard something snap, "Weiss?"

"Don't you realize that there are people here trying to sleep!?" though her shouting voice seemed to contradict her own complaint.

[This isn't going to end anytime soon, let's go to bed,] Neo signed, knowing perfectly well that the argument would most likely continue for a while longer.

Syn nodded and simply glanced at Blake, motioning for her to put out the candle and let the darkness end their bickering.

And just like that, silence set in along the night. Yet the silence didn't do anything to drown out the sound of their dreams.

* * *

It was unnatural.

Yet he was doing it anyway.

He should've left her for dead.

Yet he was carrying her in his arms as she kept on bleeding. She was so small compared to him, much lighter, obviously lacking the muscles he had.

Yet she had jumped in front of a speeding bullet for him. He hadn't noticed the sniper; it was a rookie mistake that Sevas would have beaten him into the ground for. But it wouldn't have killed him unless it had gone for his head, which it hadn't considering it had shot through Neo's shoulder and he was taller than her.

But that didn't matter, because _she_ thought he was in mortal peril, and _she_ was the one who decided to lay her life on the line for his own. She could have survived alone, no longer was she malnourished and chained, she had gotten used to living in the badlands surrounded by Grimm, thieves, and murderers.

It was a moment of irrationality to him, all his life whenever he had tried something of the kind he had been met with a brutal outcome. Yet here he was, saving the person that had injured themselves near fatally for him.

As he cleaned her wounds he couldn't help but keep thinking. They had been together for a while, she had tried to protect him and he was repaying that by helping her survive the ordeal.

Maybe that was the difference?

Before, each time before he had gone out of his way to help complete strangers that had done nothing for him, simply doing it because he had wanted to. But this was different, their relationship was entirely different.

She protected him, and he in turn saved her. They worked together, traveled together, lived together. They weren't strangers, they were partners.

A small smile stretched on his face as he kept working on her shoulder.

 _Maybe, just maybe this is fine,_ he thought.

They would help each other, support and push each other. He'd become her weapon just as she would become his, be her shield just as she had been his. It wasn't about blindly helping, it was about… something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he liked it.

He wondered about the warm feeling in his chest, but put it aside in favor of focusing on the girl he was taking care of.

The young assassin never understood that he had felt happy, for the first time someone had put him ahead of their own interests, and cared for him enough to risk death.

While unknown to him, it was important, it was something almost everyone had felt in their life at some point or another, but something that had been denied to him for the longest of times. A person that genuinely cared for him

He didn't have the time to go out and get fire-wood for warming the girl's body, it was the first time he felt the touch of another like that. They slept, back to back, sharing their heat and presence through their clothes. It was a chaotic day for sure.

But it was a memory he would never forget…

* * *

 **Author's Note: Review me your thoughts, don't be shy to tell me any ideas or criticisms you may have (as long as you're not being hostile). I will say that this chapter was the hardest to write so far, probably because this episode of RWBY is actually the one with the least happening, to me, it's like "Here, this is our cast for the show." That's what I think of that episode, but it's also important. So yeah.**


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